


Book 1: Release (Air)

by alligator_writes



Series: Azula Banished with Zuko AU [1]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Air Nomad Genocide, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Azula (Avatar) Redemption, Azula (Avatar)-centric, Fire Nation Royal Family, Gen, I'm Bad At Tagging, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Iroh (Avatar) is a Good Uncle, Lightningbending (Avatar), No Romance, Ozai (Avatar) Being a Terrible Parent, Ozai (Avatar) is an Asshole, POV Azula (Avatar), POV Third Person, Partially Blind Zuko (Avatar), Partially Deaf Zuko (Avatar), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sort Of, Unreliable Narrator, Zuko's Scar (Avatar), azula banished with zuko, but there will be in later parts of the series, eventually, hair & makeup symbolism, im adding tags as i go, some fluff here and there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:34:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 27,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26551432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alligator_writes/pseuds/alligator_writes
Summary: Snippets of Zuko and Azula’s banishment, all taking place pre-canon.Updates weekly on Saturdays!Edit (1/24/21): if y’all are looking for the continuation I promised today, check out book 2!
Relationships: Azula & Iroh (Avatar), Azula & Zuko (Avatar), Iroh & Zuko (Avatar)
Series: Azula Banished with Zuko AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1930882
Comments: 207
Kudos: 492





	1. Azula’s Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

**Author's Note:**

> Edit 1/9/21: I got a tumblr! @alligator-writes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Azula’s life is ruined (forever changed)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please be mindful of the tags. I hope you enjoy!

Three months ago, Father had given Azula one job: _Watch your brother_.

And as with all things, Azula had played her role perfectly. She helped Zuko improve his firebending, something even his idiot tutors couldn’t do. She taught him when to keep his mouth shut around court officials and especially around Father. She had gifted him just a few of the many, many lessons she had learned simply by growing up and watching her so-called family: her now dead grandfather and cousin, her stupid, fat uncle, her cruel and abandoning mother, and her miserable failure of a brother. And Father.

Most of her lessons were the ones she learned watching Zuko and Father.

And, like all things Azula did, it had gone perfectly. Zuko made fewer mistakes in his firebending demonstrations. He didn’t have to be poked as often to just _shut up, can’t you see that the adults are talking_? She helped him control his temper like she did, because while anger was acceptable, hysteria was not. Emotion was weakness and weakness was punished.

Then Uncle, stupid oaf that he was, just had to let Zuko into that stupid war meeting. Azula couldn’t follow. She couldn’t watch her brother. She couldn’t do her _one job_.

And as with all things, Zuko failed miserably at putting Azula’s lessons to good use. Of course, he spoke out against a perfectly reasonable plan created by a decorated general. Of course, it landed him in trouble. Of course, he was the reason Azula was sitting next to Uncle in a large crowd of nobles facing the Agni Kai stage.

The arena hadn’t been used for decades, certainly not since the war had started. Father had made great preparations for the occasion. A feast had been thrown to celebrate the occasion. The marble columns and stage were shined as to reflect the fire in the torches on the walls and the light from Agni above. All the seats were replaced, wood refinished, cushions restuffed. Nobles complained about anything they could, and Father wanted to make sure they focused on the event.

The event probably wasn’t even going to be that big of a spectacle. That fat old general Bujing could barely firebend. Even Zuko, terrible as he was, could beat him easily.

If it were Azula on that stage, her first strike would kill him.

Then again, Azula never would have done something as foolish as to speak out against a famed military strategist.

Of course, Azula wouldn’t do anything her brother did. She was not Zuko.

She turned her focus to him, crouched in profile on stage left. Every muscle in his body pulled taut, and already, sweat dripped from his forehead onto the marble tiles. She sighed. If he wanted to beat Bujing easily, he would have to stay loose and quick and calm. Nervousness was weakness and weakness did not win an Agni Kai.

Speaking of Bujing, the right side of the stage was still unoccupied. Azula looked up at the sky through the open ceiling. The Agni Kai was due to start any second. The least the man could do was show up on time. 

A servant rang the gong to start the event. The torches burned lower. The crowd faced the right side of the stage expectantly. The general still was not there.

Zuko pivoted and stood just as Father walked on to the right side of the stage.

Father? Zuko would duel Father? Impossible. He wouldn’t stand a chance. If Azula couldn’t succeed against him, Zuko wouldn’t just fail. 

He’d be annihilated.

And Azula would be Crown Princess.

A small smile tugged at her lips.

She saw exactly when recognition washed over Zuko’s face. He looked positively anguished. Well, he would have to give it his best effort despite not having a chance. That’s what he did in lessons, and it was better than giving up.

Zuko dropped to his knees.

Azula’s smile vanished from her face.

What did he think he was _doing_?

“Please Father, I only had the Fire Nation’s interest at heart,” Zuko pleaded. “I’m sorry I spoke out of turn!”

He should have known by now that begging didn’t work on Father. Azula knew that for as long as she could remember. Of course, she was never the one to beg. Begging was weakness and weakness was punished.

Father walked toward Zuko. “You will fight for your honor.”

“I meant you no disrespect. I am your loyal son.”

Even from the crowd, Azula could see the tears on his face. That meant Father could see them.

Tears were weakness and weakness was punished.

“Rise and fight, Prince Zuko!” Father shouted.

Azula hated when Father shouted, but she had learned by watching that flinching made it worse. She kept herself still.

Father stood over Zuko now. Had her brother always been that small? Did that mean she was that small? Of course she wasn’t. She was nothing like Zuko.

“I won’t fight you,” Zuko said, fool that he was.

To her surprise, Father crouched down. Father was never gentle. Father only ever stood above Zuko. This would only get worse.

“You will learn respect,” Father said softly, but the marble carried it throughout the crowd. “And suffering will be your teacher.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Azula saw Uncle look away.

She kept watching. She smiled. She didn’t know what else to do. She had to be perfect. She didn’t know what that meant.

Father put his hand behind Zuko’s head gently, like Mother never used to do to Azula.

He lit flames in the other.

He clamped that hand over Zuko’s face.

Zuko screamed.

The crowd kept silent.

Azula kept smiling.

Father kept his hand over Zuko’s face until the crowd could smell the burning flesh and hair.

He dropped Zuko when he was done screaming.

He only stopped when he went unconscious.

Father left the stage.

Uncle climbed up it and screamed for a medic.

The crowd dispersed.

Azula went back into the palace. 

She didn’t know if she could stop smiling.

Azula sat in her rooms and waited. For what, she couldn’t say. She lit a candle to forget the smell of burning flesh. She looked out the window to forget Zuko’s thrashing. She listened to the birds to forget Zuko’s screaming.

Instead, she tried to focus on the positives. Zuko had gotten what he deserved for his disobedience. Assuming he had died, she was Crown Princess now. She wouldn’t have to teach Zuko easy firebending forms anymore. She could actually enjoy court instead of focusing on what Zuko would say wrong next.

She would have Father’s undivided attention. He would love her more without Zuko competing with her for it.

Someone knocked on the door.

“Come in,” Azula called, disinterest heavy in her voice.

A servant shuffled in. “Your father has summoned you to the throne room, Your Highness.”

Azula sighed dramatically to make the servant feel bad for interrupting exactly nothing. “Very well.”

As she walked through the halls, she let her mind wander. Was Father going to tell her that she was Crown Princess? Would he ask her to show him her new firebending forms?

She almost scoffed aloud as the thought of Father updating her on Zuko’s condition entered her mind. He would never do that. Sentimentality was weakness and weakness was punished.

The guards opened the throne room doors before Azula opened her mouth to command them to. She strode across the floor and bowed deeply to Father. She waited for him to talk first.

“I am very disappointed in you, Azula.”

Azula held her breath and willed her face to remain neutral even though Father faced the other way.

“What have I done wrong, Father?” she asked, and cursed herself for sounding so small. Like Zuko on the stage.

No. She was nothing like Zuko.

“You did not do the one simple task I asked of you. You did not prevent today’s situation.”

Is that what he was calling it?

Azula kept her voice level. “I couldn’t, Father. Uncle let him into the war meeting. I wasn’t allowed in. I couldn’t prevent him from speaking out like the fool he is.”

Father sighed heavily. Excuses didn’t work. Zuko had made enough for her to learn by watching. Why did she speak? She was nothing like Zuko.

Her heart pounded in her chest. Discreetly, she took deep breaths.

_I shouldn’t have to do this. I should be stronger than this._

Still, it calmed her down the slightest bit.

“I’m banishing you, Azula, for failing me. You leave in the morning.”

 _Banished_?

“Father, you can’t mean-”

Father turned around and leveled a withering glare at her. He only did that to Zuko. Was he just going to treat her like Zuko? He couldn’t. Her breath caught in the back of her throat. She forced herself to breathe normally.

“I have just said exactly what I mean. You are banished, and you leave in the morning. Be happy it is not tonight.”

Azula kept herself calm on the outside. She did not have the luxury of angry outbursts. They were immature and childish, which was why Zuko had them, and she did not. It was why she dealt in barbed words dripping with sarcasm and striking true every time.

She had learned that from Father.

“Thank you, Father.” In an incredible feat of strength, she kept the venom out of her voice.

She maintained her outward calm as she walked back to her rooms. The guards opened the doors. She walked over to her bed.

Azula put her face in a pillow and screamed like Zuko did on the stage. No. She wasn’t Zuko.

Leave it to her useless uncle and her idiot brother to ruin her life in one afternoon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are appreciated!


	2. Set Sail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Azula and Zuko's banishment begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta read by my amazing girlfriend. Shoutout to the Zukka discord server for always hyping me and this fic up!
> 
> As usual, please mind the tags.

When Azula woke up the next morning, she sat up in bed and stared at her wall. Something had happened yesterday, something momentous, but she couldn’t quite remember what. Her gaze dropped to the floor, where her packed bags sat near the door.

Azula bit back a scream as she remembered she was banished. 

Someone knocked on the door.

“Come in,” Azula snapped.

Her servants opened the door and shuffled in. For a moment, Azula was tempted to send them away. After all, she was furious, and it was part of a servant’s job to take their master’s anger.

But she wouldn’t have any servants during her banishment. She let them stay.

“You leave in about an hour, Your Highness,” her hairdresser said. Azula had never bothered to learn her name.

She sighed and climbed out of bed. “Well, then I suppose you should get me ready.”

One of her dressers shrank back at her tone. Good.

Azula may not have liked or socialized with her servants, but she had to say that they were efficient. They bathed, dressed, and styled her within forty five minutes.

“Would you like me to put your makeup in your bags?” the woman who did her makeup asked.

“The hair pins, too,” Azula said quickly, and she hated her own eager tone. She should command her servants, not talk to them. She was above them and should treat them as such.

The woman slipped the makeup and hair pins in the bag. The servants began to shuffle out of the room.

Azula called after them. “Aren’t you going to put my crown in my hair?”

Her hairdresser hesitated. “We weren’t sure, Your Highness, with your banishment and all.”

Anger burned in the back of Azula’s throat, and she squeezed her hands into fists. How dare they mention that?

“Get out!” she shouted, throwing all the malice she could into the words.

The servants’ eyes widened, but they quickly shuffled out without another word.

Azula stuck her headpiece into her topknot and peered out her door and stared pointedly at the guards outside her room. “Are you going to help me carry my things or not?”

They snapped to attention, bowed, and entered the room. They emerged carrying the bags, and they escorted Azula down the hall and outside of the palace.

She faltered, just for a moment, when they moved past the front door. Where was she supposed to go?

Her guards kept moving, and Azula kept pace with them and tried to give off the impression that she was leading them to her destination.

As she picked up the pace to walk with them, she could have sworn she heard the one to her left scoff.  _ Idiot _ , she thought to herself and held her head up high.

Soon enough, they reached the river in the city that led to the sea. An ugly old ship rose out of the water. Rust covered at least half its sides. Judging from the size, it didn’t have much firepower, but it did have the potential to be fast. Maybe. If she squinted.

_ Father doesn’t even care enough to give you a good ship _ , she thought to herself, then pushed it away. Father did care. She just had to be taught a lesson. She would never make the mistake again. He would take her back. He loved her.

The guards steered her toward the ladder hanging off the side of the ship. Azula glared at them before climbing up herself. 

Would she have to do everything on her own from now on?

When she hauled herself on to the deck, Uncle’s face was the first to greet her. She tried to swallow down her rage. It was his fault she was banished, his fault Father wanted her out of the palace. Spirits, she hated him.

“Princess Azula,” he said in that pleasant way of his that was so obviously fake. “It’s a lovely day to be out, isn’t it?”

Azula said nothing as she stormed past him toward one of the trap doors in the deck. As she opened the door, she glanced over her shoulder. She saw Uncle take her bags from the guards. Why did he help them? It was their job to carry her things around, and they should have been the ones to do it.

She descended to the first lower level and walked down the corridor, trying to find which room was hers. They all looked identical in size and decoration: barely closet sized, bare walls, two tables, narrow cot. How was she supposed to tell which one was meant to be hers?

As she rounded a corner, she heard muffled yelling. Cautiously, she approached the door to her right. Through the half open door, she saw a man fussing over a table. His back was to her and he blocked whatever was on the table from view.

Another yell came from whatever was on the table. A sob followed it.

The man murmured something to whoever was on the table, and Azula caught her brother’s name. She was surprised Father had allowed the idiot to be treated after he’d gotten himself burned yesterday. Well, it couldn’t be too bad. The burns never were, and Zuko was a baby anyway. He always cried at the healer’s.

Azula turned away and nearly collided with Uncle.

“Watch where you’re going,” she spat.

Uncle had the audacity to laugh. “Have you found a room that suits you, Princess Azula?”

“Which one is mine?”

“Whatever you pick,” Uncle said, like it was obvious.

Azula turned her back to him and tried to find the room farthest from the infirmary. All the while, she thought to herself  _ How did I mess that up? It was obvious that I was supposed to choose a room. Stupid, stupid, stupid. What would Father think? Not even an hour away and you’re already a disappointment. _

Uncle followed her, still carrying her bags. She entered one of the empty rooms, and he dropped the bags in after her.

“You packed quite a lot for yourself, Princess Azula,” Uncle tried to joke.

“I didn’t pack them, the servants did.”

Uncle laughed again. Was he always so happy? Father told her stupid people often were. “Then you’ll be surprised when you unpack them.”

Uncle left without another word, thank the spirits.

Azula stared dumbly at the bags before she realized no servants would come to unpack them. She put her makeup and hair pins on the table in the corner. One of her servants had the forethought to pack a mirror. She stood it at an angle between the top of the table and the wall. Azula took her clothes out carefully and put them in her drawers. She didn’t know how to refold them if they got messed up. Wrinkled clothes were intolerable.

When she finished unpacking, Azula allowed herself a moment of childishness by throwing her bags as hard as she could into the wall. The mirror shook, but did not fall.

How could she be banished? It was impossible. She pinched herself once, praying it was a dream, but it only hurt, and she was still in her tiny room on a garbage little ship.

Pressure built up behind her eyes but Azula quickly blinked it away. She remembered what happened yesterday. Tears were weakness and weakness was punished. Besides, Zuko cried, never her. She was nothing like Zuko.

She stood in front of her mirror and breathed deeply once, twice, three times to compose herself. Her hair and makeup were intact. She was fine. She would get through this with her usual grace and dignity, and Father would let her come home. He had to. He loved her.

When she was satisfied with how she looked, Azula left her room and climbed back on to the deck.

“Set a course for the Western Air Temple!” a raspy voice commanded. “We have to find the Avatar as soon as possible.”

The Avatar?

Azula found Zuko on the deck, commanding the other sailors. Of course her stupid brother would believe in a fairy tale like the Avatar. He always was so gullible.

“Please come back to the infirmary, Prince Zuko! You still aren’t well,” a man fretted. Azula could only assume that he was the healer. Her brother always was stubborn.

As Zuko turned to yell at yet another man, Azula caught sight of the bandages overlapping the left side of his face, covering his eye and ear. Surely, the burn wasn’t that big. The healer probably did it to get Zuko to stop whining about the pain.

As she saw Zuko shout at men double his age, Azula was reminded of some of her lessons.

_ Temper tantrums are for children. _

_ Anger is cold and striking. This is hysteria. _

_ Childishness is weakness and weakness is punished _ .

Azula decided she would keep her lessons in mind during her banishment. Zuko was embarrassing enough for the both of them.

Zuko finally stopped shouting. The healer reached out to grab him by the arm. Zuko flinched. 

Weak.

Uncle came to stand beside her. Azula considered moving away, but she remembered her earlier stupidity with the rooms. One screw up was enough. She didn’t need the added stress.

“Why is he ranting about a children’s story?” she asked aloud.

Uncle turned to her, surprised. “You don’t know?”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I knew, Uncle,” she snapped.

“Ozai-” she noticed he didn’t say “your father” - “told Zuko that if both of you were to return home, he would need to capture the Avatar and return him to the Fire Nation.”

“But the Avatar hasn’t been seen in a century,” Azula said.

Uncle nodded.

“Father doesn’t want us home,” Azula whispered, horrified. She could understand not wanting Zuko. No one wanted Zuko. But Father didn’t want her either? She was supposed to be the favorite! It wasn’t right! It wasn’t fair at all.

Did he have another wife lined up? Another heir? Maybe he hated them because of their mother. But Azula wasn’t like Mother, Zuko was! Azula was like Father. She was his daughter, and no one else’s.

She felt the pressure behind her eyes again and blinked it away. No. She would not cry, especially not in front of Uncle. She would not give him the satisfaction. She grabbed the rail on the side of the ship and steadied herself, taking deep breaths.

_ I need to be stronger than this. I need to be good and strong and perfect and Father will have no choice but to take me back. Maybe not Zuko, but me. He’ll always take me back. He loves me. _

“Isn’t someone going to tell him?” she asked instead, nodding her head toward Zuko, who angrily paced the deck.

“No,” Uncle said. “It will only upset him more.”

“I would want to know,” Azula replied matter of factly.

“You are not Zuko.”

She couldn’t argue with that.

Uncle sighed heavily. “Don’t tell him, Princess Azula. Prince Zuko does not need to hear that on top of everything else.”

Azula was surprised to realize she hadn’t really considered the thought.

“I’m doing it for him, you know. Not for you. It was your fault we’re all here in the first place,” she said, looking at Uncle head on for the first time.

He had the decency to look hurt. “I wouldn’t think anything different of you.”

One day ago, Azula would not have hesitated to hurt her brother more. But when she looked at him and his bandaged face, something inside her made her stop. 

She watched him descend into the lower level with the healer. Despite his unsteadiness, Zuko didn’t let him touch him.

She wondered what had changed. If she could find it, maybe she could kill it before it made her soft.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are appreciated.


	3. Facade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Azula must do her own hair and makeup

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, mind the tags, thanks to my girlfriend for beta reading this, and comments and kudos are absolutely appreciated!

Azula woke up when she could feel the dawn in her bones. Instinctively, she turned to her window to watch the sunrise.

There was no window. Her walls were metal instead of wood. Her room was the size of a closet. Her bed was narrow and much too close to the floor.

She lit a flame in her hand and looked around. Briefly, she wondered if she had been kidnapped. No, she was much too powerful to allow that to happen.

She extinguished the flame and paused to think. Where could she possibly be?

The room rocked gently from side to side.

The boat. The banishment.

Azula sighed and got up from her bed. She ignored the lump in her throat.

For a minute, she waited for her servants to enter and help her dress for the day. Then she remembered that there were no servants for banished princesses.

Dressing herself was easy enough. She chose simple clothing with easily accessible fastenings. After a few adjustments, it fit her well. Acceptable. Not perfect yet.

Her hair was another story. It wouldn’t lay flat, no matter how hard she pressed down on it. Azula tried to remember what her servants used to do with it. Warily, she picked up the hairbrush. That was the first step, right? Her hairdresser always brushed her hair.

_ Spirits, that hurt _ .

Why did it hurt so much when she did it? Her hairdresser could do it painlessly.

_ Stupid, stupid, it’s not right, you’re doing it wrong, failure failure failure- _

Azula ripped the brush through the rest of her hair. Her scalp stung, and her arms ached with the effort, but at least it looked better. Acceptable. Not perfect. Not yet at least.

She couldn’t leave it like this. She spied the pins and the ties on her dresser.

How did her servants used to put her hair up in a top knot?

Azula grabbed a tie, held her hair up on top of her head, and wrapped it around once. It fell out. She wrapped it around twice. It stayed, but loosely. She redid it and wrapped her hair around it three times. It pulled at her scalp so hard it hurt, but it didn’t move when she shook her head from side to side.

It was functional but not acceptable. Nowhere near perfect. Her topknots were supposed to be smooth and sleek. Perfect. Hers was bumpy and uneven and she could see parts of her scalp.

How were her incompetant, foolish, weak servants better at this than her? She was the Fire Princess. She had mastered intermediate firebending forms before she was ten. Surely, she was skilled enough to style her own hair. Right? She was better than her servants. She had to be.

She had to be better. She had to be perfect. Perfect and acceptable were one and the same. Anything less was weakness, and weakness was punished.

She undid the topknot and flipped her head upside down, shaking out her hair. She gathered her hair and slipped the tie around it one, two, three times. She stood back up. It was better, but nowhere near as good as her hair had been in the palace.

If only the room had windows. Azula didn’t know how much time had passed. She could not be late for firebending practice. That was more unacceptable than her appearance.

She ignored her hair and the anger that flared up when she looked at it in the mirror. She picked up her makeup.

_ Please, let this be easier. _

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. To the best of her recollection, her servants never put on a lot. She unscrewed her eyeshadow and smeared just a bit on her eyelid.

It stood out stark against her skin, like a bruise. Her panic flared. She scrubbed at it until it faded just enough, but it was too widespread. She wiped it off and started over. It had to be acceptable. It had to be perfect.

She put on less and smeared it again. Better. Almost perfect, but almost wasn’t good enough. But it was better to look unprepared than to be late. It would have to do.

Azula scrubbed it off and started over. By the fifth time, she had started to worry. She could not be late, but she looked horrible. Her breathing sped up, and fire licked at her fingertips.

No. She was control. She was perfection. She was strength. Weakness was punished. Weakness was Zuko. She was not like Zuko.

Eventually, Azula accepted that she needed to leave her room and train for the day. She passed her mirror without looking. Her heart hammered in her chest. Rage heated her face. She took one moment to compose herself before she left her room.

If she didn’t look perfect, she had to act perfect. It would have to be enough. Not acceptable, but enough.

As she opened the door, she nearly collided with Uncle, whose hand was poised to knock.

“Princess Azula!” he exclaimed, voice dripping with fake cheer. “I had just come to see if you were awake.”

He had come to get her. At the palace, Azula didn’t need to be fetched. She was never late.

_ Stupid, lazy, wrong, failure failure failure- _

“I’ve been awake, Uncle,” she said as she stepped past him. She strode towards the ladder that led to the deck. She ignored the looks the sailors gave her.

_ Not good enough, not acceptable, weak weak weak _ -

When she climbed up onto the deck, she found an open place and began running her forms.

_ Weak, stupid, imperfect, just like Zuko, just like Mom _ ran through her head. 

She ignored it. Her fire blazed a little more wildly.

As she pivoted to begin another sequence, she heard rasping laughter to her left. She whipped her head around. Zuko still laughed, doubled over and wheezing.

Was he laughing at her? It was her job to laugh at him. That’s what Father told her to do when Zuko messed up.

“You look-” another wheeze “-like a mess!” Zuko cackled. The healer moved to his side and said something that Azula couldn’t catch. Zuko stood, but continued to laugh.

Azula looked around and saw the rest of the crew staring at her. They tried to hide their laughter, but to no avail. The sound of their snickering surrounded her.

She felt impossibly small and hated it. She needed to feel big again.

“Zuzu, you can’t talk until you can see with both eyes again,” she said coolly, without really believing it. She inspected her nails so she had time to blink away the pressure behind her eyes.

She looked up at the precise moment Zuko’s face fell. He tried to cover it with a glare, but she saw the hurt before he could collect himself.  _ Good. _

To her right, footsteps sounded against the deck. Uncle stormed over to her, and for a moment, Azula was afraid. Then she remembered that Uncle was the furthest thing from Father, and Azula was the furthest thing from Zuko. He could not hurt her.

“Azula, that was very cruel of you to say,” he reprimanded.

Unfortunately, being the furthest thing from Father meant that he would be like Mother. Azula should have known. She tried not to roll her eyes. She pretended she wouldn’t feel the hurt from the impending lecture.

Uncle just crossed to Zuko and spoke to him in hushed tones. Typical. Weak sided with weak. She was not weak. She was not Zuko.

Azula ran her forms for the rest of the day, only stopping when necessary. She paid no attention to where the ship sailed. She paid no attention to the crew bustling around her. She paid no attention to Zuko’s shouting about stopping the ship at port.

At sunset, Azula descended to her room. A pang of guilt coursed through her when she remembered she wouldn’t see her real rooms at the palace ever again. Of course she would. This would all be over when Father realized he wanted her back. That she should be back.

On her bed lay a wooden box. Warily, she approached it. _It could be a threat_ , she reasoned. _Poison, a trap, or a weapon._

She shot one small flame at it to knock it off the bed. It clattered to the floor and opened with a small  _ pop! _ Five scrolls fell out of it.

Azula quickly snuffed out the flame where it caught on the box. She picked the scrolls up from where they fell to the floor.

_ Stupid _ , the chided herself.  _ Of course it wasn’t a threat. Now that you’re banished, you’re not even worth- _

She was worthy. She was not like Zuko.

The scrolls were bound with delicate red ribbons. Azula opened one of them at random. 

It had clear instructions for different Fire Nation hairstyles.

She opened all the rest. One more had other hairstyles. The other three had detailed instructions for makeup.

Briefly, Azula considered throwing them out. How dare they imply she was anything less than skilled? Less than perfect?

But she needed them. There were no servants for banished princesses.

Azula found the hairstyle and makeup that looked the easiest. She practiced them until they were acceptable. Absolutely perfect. Nothing less.

Then she practiced them until she could do it consistently.

Her arms and scalp ached. Her skin burned with irritation from her repeated application of the makeup. Her eyes strained from her time awake.

It was worth it.

She slept maybe an hour until she could feel the dawn in her bones and couldn’t ignore it anymore. She was ready in half an hour.

No one laughed at her as she practiced her forms alone.

She looked perfect. She looked acceptable. They meant the same thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Stay well!


	4. The Western Air Temple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Azula, Zuko, and Iroh go to the Western Air Temple to find the Avatar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You all know the drill by now: thanks to my amazing girlfriend (whose birthday is today!) for beta reading this, and comments and kudos are appreciated!
> 
> TW: mentions of the Air Nomad Genocide and descriptions of skeletons

Azula had begun to wish she had stayed on the ship. She had wanted to stay, hadn’t wanted anything to do with Zuko’s idiotic little quest, but Uncle leveled a look at her that was just a little to close to one of Father’s glares.

Those were always directed at Zuko, of course. Not her. Never her.

So she trudged along, determined to stay away from both Uncle and Zuko, and maybe make it through this stupid excursion without killing either of them.

The island was small, so they could see the ship and the shore despite being in roughly the center of the island. The sun shone brightly overhead, but all it did was make Azula sweat uncomfortably under her robes. A gentle breeze rippled through the grass. Objectively, the day was perfect. It only made Azula hate it more.

Zuko set a rigorous pace, either too stubborn or too stupid to pay attention to the fact that he faltered slightly with each step. Uncle was too fat and slow to keep up, and Azula would have murdered him if she kept behind him, so she trekked across the field between the two of them, head high and inwardly seething.

Her brother stopped ahead of a ravine. He looked up from the map, down again, then back up. She caught up with him and stood on his left, where the bandages still were, just to scare him.

She snorted when he flinched. He ignored her.

“It should be right here!” he said instead, clearly frustrated.

“Are you sure, Zuzu?” Azula said dryly. “There’s just a chasm. No temple.”

“I know that. But that’s not what the map says,” he spat.

He turned to face her. Azula snickered at his furrowed brow, the one eyed glare he was trying to give her. He was as threatening as a turtleduck.

“Maybe you can only read half as well now,” Azula shot back lazily.

Zuko’s face fell for just a moment before he twisted it back into a frown. 

Uncle finally caught up to them. “Maybe the Fire Nation army destroyed the temple, too, when they destroyed all the airbenders.”

Azula rolled her eyes. “Stone doesn’t burn, Uncle. If Zuzu is right, which he probably isn’t, there should at least be some ruins.”

Zuko glared at her again. “Maybe we should check down in the ravine. The stone could have been cast there.”

“Good idea, Prince Zuko,” Uncle said.

Azula scoffed, but she reluctantly followed Zuko to the edge of the ravine. She looked straight down and saw a tiny river, the one that had carved the canyon. She moved her gaze back up the opposite wall and gasped.

The ravine wall  _ was _ the temple. Roofs and walls were carved into the stone, hanging upside down. The buildings had to be as large as some of the nobles’ houses back in Caldera. When the wind blew through them, they seemed to sigh. Fountains and courtyards were interspersed with the buildings. They had no water, and the plants were either overgrown and unruly or long dead.

The temple was definitely empty. Azula almost felt a pang of sadness. She didn’t know why.

“What a stunning view,” Uncle said when he had caught up to them.

“The only view I’m interested in seeing is the Avatar in chains,” Zuko said.

_ So dramatic _ , Azula thought.

“You know, the Avatar hasn’t been seen for one hundred years. The chances of finding him here are very slim.”

_ Hypocrite _ .

Azula almost said it, but Zuko continued, “First we’ll check each of the Air Temples, then we’ll scour the world, searching even the most remote locations until we find him.”

Not a bad plan, but it would take  _ ages _ .  _ We should search the other locations on the way. The Air Temples are located in completely different areas of the world _ .

It didn’t matter. She would write to Father and show him how good she was, and he would welcome her home before they even made it to the Southern Air Temple.

“Prince Zuko, it’s only been a week since your banishment. You should take some time to heal and rest,” Uncle said.

Zuko turned to him. “What else would I expect to hear from the laziest man in the Fire Nation?”

Azula couldn’t help but laugh at that.

“The only way to regain my honor is to find the Avatar, so I will.”

_ And he’s back to being a stupid child again. Shame. He has so much potential _ .

Zuko shuffled through his bag and took out a rope and a hook. Dimly, she remembered seeing them on the ship.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

He looked at her like she was the stupid one. “I’m climbing down the chasm and seeing if there’s anyone here.”

“It’s empty, dimwit. Besides, you’re going to fall. Your balance is terrible and so is your depth perception.”

“Watch me.” He tied the rope around his waist and checked the knots around him and the hook. When had he learned to do that?

Azula shrugged. “I guess I should expect you to keep being an idiot. It’s in your nature, after all.”

Zuko didn’t react. He just disappeared behind the cliffside.

For a brief moment, Azula had the impulse to run over and check if he had made it down successfully. She also had the impulse to remove the hook from where it had lodged in the field.

She did neither of those things. Instead, she got an idea. 

She lit flames from both her feet and her hands and used the force to hover over the field. She didn’t wobble. Carefully, she heated the flames more and rose higher. Still steady. She pushed herself over to the cliffside.

Closing her eyes, she moved forward into the gap. Still steady.

She opened her eyes and looked straight down. Fear shocked her heart for a moment, but her flames did not sputter. Fear was weakness and weakness was punished.

Azula spotted Zuko at the end of the rope. She steered herself over the spot. Gradually, she decreased the flames. The descent was jumpier than she would have liked, but she would hone the skill later. She put the flames out when her feet touched the stone. Scorch marks cast their shadows on the ground. She resolved to work on that.

Zuko startled at the sound. He whipped his head around to face her, fear blatant on his face. Then he replaced it with anger.

“How did you get down here?” he demanded.

Azula laughed. “Firebending, silly. How else? The rope? We both know I’m better than that.”

“You’re not better than Uncle, and he’s using the rope.”

Azula turned to find Uncle shakily climbing down the rope. No, she was definitely better than him, but she was tired of this fight.

“So what’s your plan now? Inspect every room for signs of a one hundred nine year old man?”

“Yes.”

Spirits, why was she cursed with an idiot for a brother?

She sighed. “Fine. You go with Uncle and head that way,” she pointed, “and I’ll head the other way. We’ll meet back to go to the other side.”

Zuko opened his mouth, but closed it again. Good. It was a reasonable plan, and he shouldn’t disagree.

Azula headed to her left, secretly rejoicing in the fact that she was now alone. Of course, she wouldn’t actually look for the Avatar. He didn’t exist. But she wandered around the temple to make Zuko think she was helping.

Airbenders, apparently, were not fond of stairs. That was fine. It meant Azula could practice her new skill. She lit the flames under her hands and feet and soared to the next level of the temple.

If she were doing this back at the palace, she might have thought this was fun. 

Exhilarated by her success, she worked on making her changes in elevation more steady. All the while, she wandered through the rooms and flew up and down to different levels.

She flew across to the last building and landed smoothly for the first time. Perfect. Good enough. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, she was a little tired from all the firebending, so she spent some time wandering this level before her strength was back up. She explored all the rooms that were open and broke down the doors of those that weren’t.

In each one, she found skeletons.

Some still wore charred remnants of Air Nomad clothing. Many didn’t. Most were alone, but others had been grouped together, probably by the wind. Or maybe they had died that way. Most were adult sized.

More than a few were smaller than Azula.

She frowned as she looked at them. Wasn’t there an army? Didn’t the Fire Nation defeat them in battle? That was what her school and her tutors had told her.

The skeletons told a different story. Their positions spoke of a massacre, a slaughter. But surely that couldn’t be correct. Right? They fought in battle and lost due to their own weakness. It was only fitting that they died.

Azula left the way she came and found her way back to the rope. Zuko and Uncle had made it back before her.

Zuko crouched at the edge of a patio overlooking the drop. Uncle crouched behind him, patting his back.

When Azula landed near them, she heard her brother retch again. She rolled her eyes. What was it now?

“They were children, Uncle,” Zuko murmured. “That was a nursery we walked into.”

“I know, Prince Zuko. I know,” Uncle whispered.

Azula, still behind them, frowned. She crossed to their right side.

_Uncle should be teaching Zuko to be stronger, not indulging this weakness._

“I found nothing,” she said.

Uncle opened his mouth to speak, but Zuko cut him off.

“We found skeletons. Children,” he whispered. He sounded horrified. Azula couldn’t fathom why.

“Of course you did,” she said. “The Fire Nation eliminated the Air Nomads. Including the children is more efficient and less expensive than taking them prisoner.”

“Azula!” Uncle said sharply. “Do not speak of it so matter of factly. It is a tragedy, and should be treated as such. No child deserves to die.”

Azula didn’t believe him, but she could appreciate his explanation. That was more than Mother ever gave her when she did something wrong.

Still, what she said was not wrong, at least according to Father and her schools. Uncle and Zuko were weak, and they didn’t know what they were talking about. Right?

“Then why is Lu Ten dead?” she snapped, expecting Uncle to be furious.

Hurt flashed across his face instead.

She didn’t know what to do with that, so Azula decided to change the subject. “Well, are we exploring the other side of the temple?”

She and Uncle looked at Zuko, who shook his head.

Good. She didn’t want to waste any more of her time with them.

She lit her hands and feet and flew back up to the top of the cliff before Uncle could tell her to return to the ship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all, sorry this came out so late in the day. Thank you so much for reading!


	5. Training

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Iroh trains Azula in firebending.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I'm so sorry I didn't get this out yesterday, but I was very busy. While this chapter is short, I hope you all like it!

Azula breathed deep and began the most difficult kata she knew. Flames shot out of her fists as she punched forward twice. She used her momentum to run forward, jump and shoot a larger jet from her feet. She backflipped in the air, landing in a crouch. Without stopping, she swung her left foot out in an arc. Fire hovered above the deck for a few seconds. She rolled, stood, punched two more times, and finished with a high kick before standing up again, huffing.

_ No, it had to look effortless. Good enough. Perfect. _ Azula inhaled and prepared to redo it.

Enthusiastic applause broke her concentration. She whirled around to find Uncle, a safe distance away, clapping like an idiotic hog monkey.

“That was wonderful, Princess Azula!” he exclaimed as he finally stopped clapping.

_ Wait, had he been watching her? _

Her breath caught in her throat for just a moment. Uncle didn’t know what he was talking about. He knew nothing of firebending, he was weak, he was a bumbling old fool too hysterical to successfully besiege a city. Father would not have been satisfied with the sequence. Her training had gone lax these past few weeks.  _ Not perfect, not good enough, not acceptable- _

“No it wasn’t,” she sniped. “It shouldn’t be so hard.”

Uncle had the gall to look perplexed. “You’re practicing forms that are meant for people three years older than you. It’s going to be hard. You made it look easy.”

“Thank you, Uncle,” she managed to get out, despite her gritted teeth.

“I’m sure, with the way you’re progressing, that you’re going to run out of forms to practice unless you can advance,” Uncle continued. Why was he still talking?

“And I can teach you some more advanced forms, if you’d like.”

Uncle, teach her? Azula barely bit back a laugh.

“Uncle, I don’t think you’re fit to be a firebending teacher.”

Without another word, Uncle launched into the sequence Azula just completed. And he was the one who really made it look easy.

A treacherous voice in Azula’s head said,  _ That’s probably better than even Father could do _ .

She silenced it viciously.

Uncle looked at her and must have seen something on her face because he simply smiled and began to instruct her on a new sequence.

She listened, but only barely. Her thoughts raced.  _ How will he instruct me? Will he be like my tutors or like Father? What happens if I mess up? Don’t be silly, I won’t mess up. I can’t. I can’t I won’t I’m not Zuko it’s out of the question _ -

“Are you ready to try it yourself?” Uncle’s question brought her back to reality.

Azula nodded with more certainty than she felt.

When she finished, she looked back at Uncle. Had she done it right? Wrong? No, she couldn’t have done it wrong. She was not Zuko, who had to be reprimanded in every lesson.

She was not the example.

Uncle only silently nodded and began instructing her in another form.

She executed it.

He said nothing, but continued on.

Was she doing it right? Wrong? Would he tell her all the errors she made at the end? Father did that to Zuko sometimes. No, she was not Zuko. She was not weak.

Could she interrupt? Was that allowed? Her tutors always said they were open to questions, but she never needed to ask any. Father would not allow interruptions. She had seen what happened to Zuko when he did it. She could not be wrong, what would happen if she was wrong, imperfect, weak, punished?

This happened three more times before Azula finally spoke up.

“Why aren’t you saying anything?” she yelled.

A few of the sailors looked over at them, but she didn’t care. They didn’t matter.

Uncle paused, clearly about to begin talking about technique again. Fear almost made Azula take it back.

“What do you mean? I’ve been talking through all the forms.”

She kept herself calm. Hysteria was weak and weakness was punished. “After I try the sequences, you don’t say anything. How am I supposed to know if I’m doing them correctly?”  _ Perfectly _ .

“Oh,” Uncle said.  _ Of course the idiot never thought of it. _ “I hadn’t said anything because your forms were perfect the first time you did them. That was why I was so quick to move on.”

“But they’re not perfect. My kicks are slow and too low, I don’t follow through correctly on my punches, and my breathing isn’t well controlled,” Azula said.

Uncle looked her directly in the face. “Says who?”

Azula opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She closed it before Fa-no-Uncle could tell her to stop gaping like a fish.

“Says who” indeed. 

_ Says me _ , Azula thought, but that wasn’t quite true. 

_ Says my tutors. _ No, that wasn’t quite right either.

_ Says Father _ . That was certainly right, but it wasn’t an independent answer. So it was wrong.

“Says me,” she retorted like she originally intended. It lacked conviction, and she cursed herself for it.

Uncle nodded. “I think we’re done training for today.”

Azula wanted to protest, but she had done enough  _ wrong _ for one day. For once, she listened to Uncle and returned to her room.

She moved all the furniture along one wall and rolled up the rug into a corner, too. Then she practiced her kicks and her punches toward the metal wall until it was red hot.

_ Not high enough _ . Redo.

_ Not strong enough _ . Redo.

_ Not fast enough _ . Redo.

_ Not perfect _ . Redo, redo, redo.

When the forms were finally to her satisfaction, the sun had been down for hours. The ship was silent except for her own breathing. Even the ocean seemed more still. Azula distributed the heat around her walls to cool the spot she had made orange with her fire. She wiped off her makeup, changed into her sleeping clothes, and fell asleep.

The next morning, she used her makeup to cover the dark circles under her eyes.

The next morning, her forms were to her satisfaction. _Acceptable. Good enough. Perfect._

If Uncle noticed her drastic improvements, he didn’t say anything.

Azula didn’t think the idiot would know good firebending if it blasted him in the face, but he was all she had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! As always, comments and kudos are appreciated!


	6. Exposed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the bandages come off.
> 
> TW: for scar description, many references to child abuse

They were on their way to the Southern Air Temple when Zuko disappeared for a week.

Well, disappeared was too strong a word. He stopped being seen above deck, but Azula knew where he was. No matter where she was on their tiny garbage ship, she could still hear him screaming from the infirmary.

Uncle went with him, of course. He told her that the wound had gotten infected. She didn’t know why he told her. Did he want her to go see Zuko, make sure he was alright? Unless she was a healer, she couldn’t help him. Any other reason for her going was just sentimentality, which was weakness. And weakness was punished.

Azula liked that she was left alone more often. The only bad thing about Zuko being away was that Uncle didn’t teach her more advanced firebending forms. She was bored already and sick of practicing katas she already knew like a simpleton.

Azula didn’t see her brother once. Even Uncle’s disappointment didn’t scare her into going.

For whatever reason, Uncle updated her every day. “He’s more lucid now,” he would say one day, brightly. “He’s not eating as much,” he would say the next, and he would hang his head sadly.

There was nothing to worry about, Azula knew. The healer was half decent, and Zuko always stubbornly refused to be severely hurt. He would be fine.

She didn’t know what she thought of that.

The screams from the infirmary stopped after five days. Zuzu didn’t leave for two more.

Azula practiced one of the sequences Uncle taught her.

“We don’t have time to restock now! We have to make it to the Southern Air Temple as fast as possible!”

Oh, so Zuko was back in commission. Lovely.

Azula turned to watch the ensuing argument. She could use a little entertainment, anyway.

“Sir, we won’t make it to the Southern Air Temple if we don’t restock on coal and water now. We can’t do it later,” the sailor explained calmly.

Zuko, dramatic as ever, huffed and turned away from him.

And that’s when Azula saw the left side of his face.

Spirits, it was bad.

It was crimson, almost worse than blood. The skin, though it didn’t even look like skin, was puckered and ridged and inflexible. The burn covered almost half of the left side of his face and twisted it into a permanent scowl. Azula supposed it was good that he looked more threatening, stronger.

_ He looks more like Father  _ with  _ the scar _ . The thought was stupid and it shouldn’t have crossed her mind. Father was strong, but not threatening. Not to her. Never to her. Right?

Azula looked back at Zuko. She didn’t know ears could look like that.

It was a miracle his eye wasn’t sealed shut.

The outline of the burn was a handprint. She didn’t remember Father’s hands being so  _ big _ .

Nausea rose up her throat. She swallowed the feeling down.

Father never burned Zuko this badly. Ever. None of them scarred, none of them were visible unless you knew where to look. He was careful.

Then again, this was careful too. It was a brand, a symbol of the Firelord’s conviction. He would not stand for dissent. Even from his own family.

_ If it was such a good symbol, why do I feel this way? _ she thought to herself. Nausea came back, and she forced it down twice as hard as before. Sickness was weakness, and weakness was punished.

Zuko caught her stare. If she looked away, she would look guilty, like a child getting caught stealing from the kitchens. She met his gaze.

“What are you looking at?” he demanded.

_ The scar. The brand. The symbol. What Fa- no, what you went and did to yourself,  _ all popped in her head without warning. She couldn’t admit that. Admitting her shock and surprise was out of the question. It would prove she was unprepared.

Ambushes never worked out well for their victims.

Azula laughed instead. “I’m proud of Father’s work. I was just thinking about what you could wear to make it pop a little more. Too much red will wash you out, Zuzu.”

Poor Zuzu never could catch his facial expressions in time, but the scar partially helped. Hurt flashed over his face, then he disguised it with anger. Azula had to give him credit. It took him a little less time, now.

Half his face didn’t move. Of course, Azula didn’t think it was disconcerting in the slightest. She was better than that.

“Princess Azula!” a stern voice reprimanded over her shoulder. Even though he wasn’t being yelled at, Zuko flinched. Baby.

Uncle moved into view. Azula cursed herself for not being more aware. 

_ Stupid, unprepared, idiot _ , a voice said in her head. It sounded a lot like Father’s. That was ridiculous. Father never said any of those things to her. She’d only heard them while he said them to Zuko.

Uncle squarely faced her. Zuko moved away from him and stood to Azula’s left. His hands squeezed into fists and he stood with his legs locked. He looked straight at the ground.

“I’m very disappointed in you,” Uncle said.

_ Disappointed _ .

Azula could deal with anger. She didn’t know what to do with disappointment. Father was never disappointed. Not in her. Never in her. Only Zuko made him feel that way. And she was not Zuko.

She didn’t know what to do, so she recalled her lessons:

_ Keep your mouth shut. _

_ Make eye contact. _

_ Stand up straight. _

_ Answer all questions or orders with the appropriate responses: “Yes, sir. No, sir. Thank you, sir. I will, sir.” _

Azula tried to stay present, she really did. She couldn’t. The creaking of the ship and the shouting of the sailors sounded muffled in her ears, like in a dream. Behind her back, she dug her nails into her palms to keep herself present. If she drifted off like a daft fool and missed an order, or worse, a question, well, she couldn’t afford to do that right now. That would definitely make it worse.

“You need to…” Uncle trailed off. He scanned Azula from head to toe, multiple times. She did not react, like she was supposed to. She was perfect.

Zuko took a step back when Uncle’s critical gaze landed on him. Azula refrained from rolling her eyes.

Uncle looked back at her again, and no, that did not catch her by surprise, thank you very much. Why did he look at her again? She had reacted perfectly.

_ What does he want from me? _

Her eyes widened as he stared at her.  _ Fool _ .

She settled her expression into its natural smirk, like the one Father would have wanted from her. She met Uncle’s eyes.

For whatever reason, that seemed to unnerve him. His eyes widened and all the anger seemed to drain from him, replaced by confusion.

Then he sighed and said, “You need to apologize to your brother.”

Azula fought the urge to raise her eyebrows in surprise. That would not do. Uncle was already disappointed, and she did not want the consequences to be any worse. Like they were for Zuko. She was not Zuko.

“I’m sorry for making fun of you,” she said. It was a miracle that she kept the sarcasm from her voice.

She did not look at the scar.

Zuko nodded.

Uncle, obviously satisfied, went to converse with a sailor nearby.

Zuko and Azula both released their breath. 

She looked at him, annoyed. He looked at her, angry.

He stalked across the deck. She strode over to the ladder and climbed below deck.

Azula went to her room and lit a candle. She stood in front of her clothing chest and looked in the stupid, tiny mirror that was propped up against the wall. In it, she scrutinized her reflection.

_ What gave me away? _

She picked up her pots of makeup and smoothed away every line and imperfection that she could see. There were more than she would like to admit.

Azula practiced in the mirror. Anger, joy, disgust. Sadness, sympathy, fear.

Good. Anger and sadness looked the same. Joy and sympathy were indistinguishable. There was no difference between disgust and fear.

As it all should be. Her weakness would not be caught. Not like she intended to be weak ever again.

She wouldn’t be unprepared or off guard. Ambushes never worked out well for their victims.


	7. Learning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which they visit the other three Air Temples.
> 
> TW: discussion of Air Nomad Genocide, skeletons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween everyone! I hope you all stay safe and healthy while you have fun!
> 
> As usual, comments make my day!

After another week, they reached the Southern Air Temple.

While Azula would have liked to practice her flight skills again, she was grateful that the Southern Air Temple was more traditionally constructed. Maybe she’d find something a little more interesting here.

Zuko, being his annoying self, dispatched the crew this time around. He said it was to aid in the search, to make it more efficient.

He couldn’t lie to save his life. It was so he wouldn’t find the skeletons again, Azula knew. Baby.

The addition of the crew made it more difficult for Azula to do some exploring on her own. She didn’t know what Uncle had told them, but she suspected that at least some of them wanted to indulge Zuzu’s idiotic fantasy. It wouldn’t be good to have them hovering around her while she did nothing to help.

One of the sailors tried to talk to her as they walked up the path to the temple. She tuned him out and stalked to the farthest part of the temple she could see.

“Spoiled brat,” he muttered behind her.

“Let her go,” Uncle said firmly.

Azula didn’t know why that made her feel good.

As it turned out, Azula did need to use her flight at some points. The temple did have some stairs, but most of them weren’t intact anymore. She supposed that nearly one hundred years of abandonment would ruin the place. That, and bad architecture initially.

She missed the nobles’ houses in Caldera. She quickly pushed the thought away. Sentimentality was weakness, and weakness was punished.

This temple was in better condition than the Western Air Temple. Most of the towers and staircases were still intact. Plants sprouted through the cracks in the stone, but hadn’t taken over the entire place, yet. The feeling of abandonment was somehow lesser than the one that dominated the Western Air Temple. This place was still a little alive. Maybe it was the cobwebs.

Azula recalled that the Southern Air Temple was the final one to be subdued. Their army was the strongest one.

But that couldn’t be correct. The skeletons she found here were arranged in the same way as the ones she’d seen a few weeks before. The children she found didn’t speak of an army.

The airbenders had been slaughtered. Massacred. By the Fire Nation.

But that couldn’t be right. Azula’s teachers never mentioned it. Surely, her royal tutors didn’t make such an egregious error with her education.

It had to be on purpose. She didn’t know what to make of that.

She flew back to the entrance of the temple, just to prove she could. As she landed, she could see that only a few members of the crew, Zuko, and Uncle were waiting for her.

“What took you so long?” Zuko snapped. He had become so much meaner since the bandages had come off. 

_ If he weren’t so childish _ , Azula supposed,  _ Father would be proud _ .

Azula rolled her eyes. “I was actually thorough in my search. Agni forbid I try to help you.”

Zuko huffed and began to storm his way back to the ship, raving about going to the next temple.

Uncle shot her a look that bordered on pride. Azula ripped her gaze away from his.

_ That wasn’t supposed to mean anything. _

She didn’t know why it did.

\------------

On their way to the Eastern Air Temple, Azula finally got the courage to ask.

She found Uncle in the mess hall, chatting and playing Pai Sho with one of the sailors. Azula racked her brain for his name. Jee? It didn’t matter anyway.

She stood there in silence, watching them play until Uncle noticed her.

“Will you excuse us?” he asked the sailor, who nodded and stood.

He gave a slight bow to Uncle. He ignored Azula on the way out. Rude.

Uncle turned to face her. “What is it, Princess Azula?”

“The Air Nomads didn’t have an army, did they?” she challenged.

Uncle deflated. It was almost as bad as seeing his disappointment, but Azula had prepared. Her makeup didn’t betray the slightest shift of her facial expression, from neutrality to apprehension.

“How did you figure it out?”

Azula scoffed. “I’m not stupid, Uncle. I saw the bodies in the Air Temples. There were children mixed in with them. They died fleeing.”

Uncle’s eyes widened. “You saw skeletons?”

“Yes.”

Abruptly, Uncle stood and began to pace the length of the room. “Are you alright?”

“Why wouldn’t I be alright?” Azula asked defensively. “They’re just bones.”

“They were people.”

“Emphasis on  _ were _ , Uncle. They’re dead now and have been for decades. I’m not going to cry myself to sleep over it.”

Uncle gave her the same look Mother used to give her when Azula threw bread at the turtleducks.

She didn’t have to stand for this. She moved toward the door.

“Princess Azula,” Uncle said quietly. 

Something in his voice made her stop. She turned around. 

“The Air Nomads had no army. Unlike how you were told, they did not attack the Fire Nation. We attacked first. We wiped them out. It is a dishonor of our nation, which is why it is not taught.”

When Uncle put it like that, it made sense.

“It should be taught. We deserve to know all parts of our history, the good and the bad. How else are we supposed to continuously improve ourselves and better the world?”

Uncle nodded, but stopped at her last sentence. Azula didn’t know why. The logic made sense.

“If we taught all that history, some might doubt the Fire Nation and what it stands for.”

Azula scoffed again. “Then they’re fools. We’re the greatest nation in the world.”

With that, she left, but not before she saw Uncle’s profoundly sad expression.

_ What did I do wrong?  _ she thought to herself as she quelled the panic.

\------------

At the Eastern Air Temple, she burned the skeletons she found. It was Fire Nation tradition. She didn’t know what the Air Nomads did to their dead. It didn’t matter. She tried to put their souls at rest. It wasn’t perfect. It had to be enough.

Smoke drifted up from behind the temple. Zuko didn’t notice. Uncle did.

He didn’t say anything to her. Pride mixed with sorrow on his face.

_ He should learn to mask his expressions, too _ , she thought to herself as she boarded the ship to leave.

\------------

There were  _ people _ at the Northern Air Temple. No airbenders, though. And they certainly weren’t Fire Nation.

They had a leader. Zuzu was making a fool of himself in front of him.

“What is your business?” the leader asked.

“I’m Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation,” the idiot said, “and I’m looking for the Avatar.”

The leader barely held back laughter. “What’s the Fire Prince doing here?”

Zuko fumbled for an answer. Azula saw this as her cue to step up.

“What this idiot is trying to ask,” Azula ignored the look Zuko gave her, “is if we can search the temple for a near ancient airbender.”

The leader stepped closer to Azula. Behind her, the sailors put their hands on their weapons.

“I can assure you, the Avatar isn’t here. I don’t even think he exists.”

Azula almost voiced her agreement, but her promise to Uncle screamed from the back of her mind. “Unfortunately, we can’t take your word for it. Now, you can allow us to search the temple, and we won’t hurt any of your people. Or, you can try to stop us, which will definitely result in more casualties for you than for us.”

The leader’s eyes widened. He gulped nervously. Azula almost laughed at how pathetic he was.

“Fine. You may search us. But please don’t hurt anyone or damage anything.”

“You have our word,” Uncle piped up from behind. He really was no fun.

Azula took care in making sure she didn’t appear curious. These people had nothing to offer her. Everything worth her time was back in the Fire Nation, back home.

It took more effort than she would like to admit to stop herself from staring at the gliders. She itched to know how they worked, what the math was behind it.

Well, it wouldn’t hurt to look at them instead of for a ghost.

So in every room they entered, Azula observed the inventions instead of looking for signs of an old man. She inspected their gliders and their temperature regulation systems. It was much more entertaining.

And here, there were no bones.

They didn’t have anything like this in the Fire Nation. They had no need for it. Firebenders and coal were both in great supply, so homes were always heated. The roads were in good condition for conventional travel.

She ran her hand over one of the gliders.  _ I wonder what it would be like to fly _ .

Azula crushed the thought. Curiosity was one thing. It could help her to understand these people, her enemies; how they worked, what their weaknesses were, how to overtake them. It wouldn’t happen today, but knowledge was power.

Childish dreams and longing had no place in her head.

She met Uncle and Zuko back where the leader was still waiting for them.

“Well?” the leader, the inventor, she guessed, asked fearfully.

“Nothing,” Azula said simply, and she strode out of the temple, leaving them all behind.

She wondered if the rest of the temples would soon be repopulated.

The thought made her ache, so she pushed it down.

_ Don’t be childish _ , she told herself.  _ Don’t waste your concern on things you can’t control. _


	8. Spar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Zuko and Azula spar for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The routine: thanks to my spectacular girlfriend who reads everything I write, comments and kudos give me serotonin, and thank you so much for sticking with me on this story.

Azula was bored.

Uncle’s teaching pace was much too slow. It felt like he was teaching her forms meant for babies. She mastered each one on the first try, as she should, and made each one look effortless, as was expected, but they were exceptionally boring anyway. Her tutors at the palace at least made it fun.

Then Uncle suggested she spar with the crew members. Azula beat all of them easily, and no one wanted a rematch. Spirits, they were worse than Zuko. Speaking of…

It’s been months since Zuzu has used his firebending. 

Azula didn’t know if she’d ever seen him bend the entire time they’ve been on this spirits-damned ship. She thought it was pretty selfish of him. He knew she was bored, she told him often enough, trying to give him the hint, but he still didn’t spar with her.

After the last time, Uncle had pulled her aside and spoke to her in hushed whispers.

“Princess Azula, your brother is not ready to bend again,” he said. “He is still afraid of fire.”

Azula disguised her laugh as a cough, but kept her smile. “Afraid of his own element? Father really was right.”

Uncle looked at her incredulously. “What do you mean?”

“Father always said Zuko is weak,” she explained slowly, like to a child. How was she related to this simpleton? “And this just proves that he is right. Zuko shouldn’t be afraid of his own fire.”

Uncle looked like he was about to sigh, but then he changed course. “Princess Azula, if you happened to have been burned like that, wouldn’t you also be wary of flames?”

“That wouldn’t happen to me. I’m not an idiot.”  _ I’m not Zuko _ .

This time, Uncle did sigh. “Please do not bother your brother again, until he is ready.”

Reluctantly, she nodded. What would she do in the meantime to keep her skills sharp? Father wouldn’t approve.

_ Father isn’t here _ , a voice in her mind reminded her. She didn’t like how it made her feel, a mixture of sadness and relief, so she pushed it away.

As she left, she took one last look at Zuzu, who sat at a desk furiously studying a map. His left side faced her.

She looked at the scar, and she thought that maybe she understood what Uncle tried to tell her.

Maybe she did, but she definitely didn’t want to.

\---------

It took another month after that before Uncle brought Zuko on the deck and told her they would spar.

Zuko stared at his shoes the whole time, looking like he wanted to jump into the ocean.

Azula was tempted, too, but she would rather spar than swim.

She straightened her topknot and led Zuko to her usual spot at the stern of the ship. His shuffling steps grated against the metal deck. Azula kept her head high and ignored the sound.

She turned around to face him. “Are you ready?”

He shrugged, so she took that as her cue to blast a short jet of flame at him.

And then they were sparring.

Zuzu dodged left from the flame, then punched out at her twice. Azula retreated out of range. She kicked forward and used the momentum to duck as he swung at her again.

While they fought, Azula noted the differences. Zuko was sloppy from the months without practice. He moved slower than she remembered, and his forms weren’t as solid as they should have been. Imperfect. Unacceptable. Weak.

She found it harder to train her eyes on his face. It didn’t really matter anyway, he was so predictable in his movements. Lead right, follow left. Duck, jump, lead right, follow left.

Wait.

Zuzu was left handed. Now he favored his right side.

This gave Azula an idea.

As she twisted left, out of the way of his kick, she flashed him a rude gesture she had learned from watching the sailors.

No reaction.

Twin jets of flame shot out of her feet, and she used their momentum to fly over him. She landed to his side, where she should have been seen from his peripheral.

He twisted all the way around to face her again.

Interesting.

Azula attacked his right side again, for she didn’t want the fight to end quite so soon. Zuko dispelled the flames and went on the offensive, leaving an opening at his left.

Azula rushed at him and tackled him to the ground. Expertly, she pinned him.

“Do you yield?” she asked mockingly.

He twisted his head so his right ear faced her.

Oh. Even better.

“Yes,” he gasped out. “I yield.”

Azula snickered and stood. She didn’t help Zuzu up.

Immediately, she looked to Uncle. He scrutinized them both in the way Azula knew not to react to, the way that always made Zuko find his shoes incredibly interesting.

She snuck a glance. Sure enough, he stared at the deck with burning intensity. If he could bend with his eyes, there would be a melted hole underneath him.

_ That’s ridiculous. Firebenders can’t use their minds to bend. _

“Good match,” Uncle said.

Azula allowed herself a smile, what she was expected to do when she won. So, every time.

“... to both of you,” Uncle continued.

The smile threatened to slip, but Azula didn’t let it.

Zuko snapped his gaze up from his shoes and stared at Uncle, incredulous.

“I think that was a wonderful first session for you, Prince Zuko,” he said.

Zuko’s expression of surprise didn’t waver.

Azula’s smile turned into a sneer.  _ Of course Uncle would be like Mother. Of course he wouldn’t punish Zuko for his weakness like he deserves. Why would I expect him to act like Father, why would I expect him to l- _

“And you were very perceptive this round, Princess Azula. Well done.”

She made sure the surprise didn’t show on her face.

“I suggest you both take a break, and you can fight another round if you want.”

Azula couldn’t remember when Father ever made  _ suggestions _ . There were  _ orders _ and  _ questions _ , and she knew what to do for both.

They both nodded. Zuko went to go get water. Azula stayed put.

“It was very smart of you to notice your brother’s,” Uncle trailed off, looking for the word, “differences.”

“They were easy to find. Zuzu’s never been good at hiding things.”

Uncle chuckled, though she wasn’t joking.

“This round, why don’t you attack from his strong side?”

Azula paused before she said, “Why would I do that?”

“You already know where his weak points are. Challenge yourself and see if you can defeat him at his strong points, too.”

She scoffed. “Of course I can. It won’t be much of a challenge, though. I’ve always been better than Zuko.”

Uncle gave a small nod at that, but it didn’t seem like he believed her. “You don’t need to exploit his shortcomings, Princess Azula. As his sister and ally, you should protect his weak points.”

Azula couldn’t help it. Her anger flared.

“And as his teacher, you should make sure he doesn’t continue being weak!” she shouted just as Zuko came back to them.

He flinched at her words. Good.

Anger flashed across Uncle’s face for just a minute, before he replaced it with calm. 

“He needs to learn to adjust,” he said softly.

“He’ll only do that if you make sure his weakness doesn’t continue,” she shot back.

Uncle levelled a look at her. “What do you want me to do, Princess Azula?”

To her left, Zuko sucked in a sharp breath.

And Azula thought about the question.

_ Father would probably hit him. Or burn him. Or make him spar me again and again until he won, which wouldn’t happen. He would definitely shout at him. _

_ But I don’t want those things to happen. _

The thought scared her. She was supposed to want what Father wanted. He was right. He was always right, and she had to be like him to be right, and Zuko was wrong.

She squashed down her fear and met Uncle’s gaze. She stayed silent. He softened.

“Are you both ready to go again?”

Zuko exhaled the breath he’d been holding. They both nodded.

Azula ended up taking Uncle’s advice and attacked Zuko from the right. He didn’t seem to notice.

It was inconvenient. It took her a full thirty seconds longer to win the round.

But Uncle’s smile of approval may have been worth it.

And it was much less boring, anyway.


	9. Letters Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some of the many letters Azula wrote to Father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I took a few risks with this chapter, which is a bit shorter than usual. Next week's will absolutely make up for it though. As usual, mind the tags, thanks to my girlfriend for being my biggest supporter, and comments make my world go round.
> 
> (Also if you want to, please check out the story I posted two days ago. I'm really proud of it and I don't want it to flop lol)
> 
> Thanks so much for sticking with me!

_ Father, _

_ So far, there has been no sign of the Avatar.  _ ~~_ Why did you send me on a wild fire ferret chase? _ ~~ _ I have decided to check all the Air Temples first, as well as all the coastal destinations along the way.  _ ~~_ Why didn’t you tell me there were conditions to my punishment? _ ~~ _ I am confident we will find him soon. I am eager to crush him and bring glory to the Fire Nation.  _ ~~_ I will make you proud. I promise. _ ~~

_ Yours, _

_ Princess Azula _

_ Father, _

_ I have checked the Western Air Temple. There was nothing there, aside from a few Air Nomad skeletons.  _ ~~_ The emptiness felt wrong. _ ~~ _ As I saw them, I remembered what you taught me about weakness.  _ ~~_ Weakness is punished. _ ~~ _ Your lessons have stayed with me during this time.  _ ~~_ Stay strong, perfection and acceptable are the same, do not flinch. _ ~~ _ I will not forget them.  _ ~~_ I don’t think I can. _ ~~ _ Their bones spoke of their weakness. The Fire Nation was right in eradicating them.  _ ~~_ Right? _ ~~ _ I will write when I receive any new information. _

_ Yours, _

_ Princess Azula _

_ Father, _

_ I know my letters have been all business, but I have seen fit to inform you of our condition.  _ ~~_ I hope this is not weakness. _ ~~ _ I am fine. I have continued my training,  _ ~~_ Uncle has been a satisfactory teacher, _ ~~ _ teaching myself from scrolls. I have kept myself to the same rigorous pace and instruction my tutors and you expect from me. I will be on schedule with my training  _ ~~_ if _ ~~ _ when I come home.  _

_ Uncle remains as annoying as he was in the palace. I don’t know why he came with us. How you ever tolerated his tea and proverbs and general cheeriness is a feat of strength I aspire to.  _ ~~_ He is not that bad. _ ~~ _ Zuko is still an idiot. He is taking too long to learn his lesson.  _ ~~_ I’ve learned enough. _ ~~ _ The bandages came off a few days ago. I hope that helps him learn.  _ ~~_ I’ve learned. I promise. _ ~~

_ Yours, _

_ Princess Azula _

_ Father, _

_ I apologize for not having written for a long time. I finished searching the Air Temples.  _ ~~_ There were people at the Northern Air Temple. _ ~~ _ All of them were emptied and abandoned. I have learned from this. The Air Nomads had no army.  _ ~~_ Sozin massacred them. _ ~~ _ The Fire Nation attacked first, and we struck swiftly and mightily. The account I learned from my tutors was not honest.  _ ~~_ The account I learned from you was not honest. _ ~~ _ In between stops, I drafted a new curriculum on the subject,  _ ~~_ massacre, genocide, _ ~~ _ which I have included in this letter. I think it would be wise to implement it. That way, children can know the truest, most glorious history of our nation.  _ ~~_ They deserve to know the truth. Why wasn’t I taught the truth? _ ~~ _ Our forethought was not wrong.  _ ~~_ Was it? _ ~~ _ It should be celebrated.  _ ~~_ Should it? _ ~~ _ I will continue my search. _

_ Yours, _

_ Princess Azula _

Azula wrote Father every day. Then, every week. Later, it became once a month. Soon, only when she received information relevant to her search for the Avatar.

But every time she wrote, she racked her brain for the right words. The words that would convince Father to just let her come home. She needed to be home. She deserved to be home.

Her tutors certainly promoted an emphasis on language. After all, declarations of victory were to be eloquent. No one would expect less from a future Fire Lord.

For a moment, she wondered how behind she was on her academic instruction. She pushed the thought away. Worrying about such useless subjects would not help her convince Father. Besides, she was not behind. She read anything she could get her hands on in the stupid garbage ship, and she continued learning. Falling behind was not an option.

As she wrote, Azula made every brushstroke, every crease, every wax seal perfect. Banishment did not change her. She was still the same princess Father sent to go learn her lessons. (Hadn’t she learned enough lessons from him at the palace, without being banished?) She was still the same: perfect, strong, capable, intelligent, ruthless, deserving, worthy, and never scared.

He had to have been able to see it. Every letter was delivered. The messenger hawks always came back empty and hungry. 

Father read her letters. Azula continued writing. It would work. It had to work.

If Uncle had that strange, sad look on his face, every time he saw her put a scroll in the compartment on a messenger hawk, it didn’t matter. She didn’t have to deal with such foolishness. She busied herself with watching the sailors. Though she never did any of the tasks herself, she learned how to tie knots and feed the furnaces and haggle for food and water and fuel when they stopped. 

Such tasks were beneath her. They were mere distractions. Azula memorized their processes anyway.

If the messenger hawks came back sooner than expected, it didn’t matter. She simply worked harder at reading the maps of the winds and the tides. She learned to navigate with the sun and the stars.

Such information was beneath her. But she itched to learn something, and her sketches of the inventions of the Northern Air Temple (created from memory) that she stashed in her makeup cases were a worse alternative. Those were fantasies, and far inferior to the Fire Nation skills she could better her time with. A few months ago, she perfected all the makeup and the hairstyles in the scrolls. Soon, Uncle would run out of katas to teach her.

If Father never wrote back, it didn’t matter. She would earn his words back. Well, she would earn the effort of commanding a scribe back. (How? Father’s “perfect” changed constantly. Without him here, she couldn’t study his face or posture or language and see what she had to be.) 

Such processes were absolutely necessary. She had to keep working, keep pushing, and make herself perfect. 

Nothing different from the usual, then. At least one part of her world hadn’t been completely upended.

She took comfort in the familiarity of her work, took a new sheet of parchment, and wrote her next letter. 

_ Father, _

_ As I am sure you are aware, it has been a year  _ ~~_ since you cast us out _ ~~ _~~.~~ I am following every lead I come across, but the savages of the Earth Kingdom and the Water Tribes have proved incredibly unhelpful.  _ ~~_ Maybe I would receive better information in the Fire Nation. This is impossible. I’ve always known it to be impossible. _ ~~ _ It is challenging, but I firmly believe I am making progress.  _ ~~_ I hope to Agni I’m making progress. I hope I’m not as useless as Zuko. _ ~~ _ I hope to have him in chains at your feet soon.  _ ~~_ I can’t take another year of this. Please let me come home. Why haven’t you let me come home? I deserve it. I’m not Zuko. _ ~~

_ Yours, _

_ Azula _


	10. Soft

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Azula makes some adjustments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all know the drill by now. I can't believe we're halfway done with this part of the story! Wild.  
> Also if you feel like donating me some dopamine, a comment is a great way to do it.
> 
> TW: references to child abuse
> 
> Note: four person chess boards exist in our world, so I made four person Pai Sho boards exist here. Also, Azula interacts with some of the sailors here, and I promise it's all good vibes.

Zuko was on one of his tirades again.

“Are you stupid? We have to run all the engines in order to make it to port as fast as possible!”

The sailor heaved a long suffering sigh. “We can’t run all the engines. The ship can’t take it.”

Azula agreed with the sailor on this one. From all her reading and observation, this stupid little ship was held together by Agni’s grace and pure spite.

“This is my ship and I say it can take it.”

Azula rolled her eyes. In the year that had passed, Zuko had become increasingly explosive. Sure, he had his outbursts at the palace, but this was incredibly dramatic and stupid, even for him.

At the palace, this would have been shut down instantly. Before she left, Mother would comfort Zuko with quiet words and soothing hugs. Father shut him up with a slap. If that didn’t work, he’d burn the inside of one of Zuko’s arms, somewhere concealed by the robes.

After all, it was unbecoming for the palace staff to know he required such discipline in order to act properly.

Azula never needed such action.

On the ship, however, his little tantrums always ran their course with no one to stop him. Uncle never intervened. Whenever Zuko felt like being theatrical, he let him run his course with a sad smile on his face.

It bothered her that she couldn’t figure out why he did that.

Azula could tell the sailors wanted Zuko to shut up as much as she did. They were always tense when he started shouting about whatever he felt like that day. While some had the decency to at least try to mask their expressions, most didn’t. She couldn’t blame them.

She wondered what stopped them from reprimanding the idiot. Maybe they too, had inconvenient promises to Uncle. 

The sailor walked away in a huff. “Stupid fucking kid,” he grumbled as he passed Azula.

She giggled at that. Father never permitted cursing in the palace. Though she never tried it out herself, it was always inexplicably funny to hear.

“You know, you’re just making them hate you,” she said. So she felt like stoking the fire. Sue her.

Zuko whirled around to face her. His face was crimson, and he flailed his arms around in anger. She couldn’t help her laughter.

“Like you’re doing anything different!” he shouted at her.

Her laughter died in her throat. “Excuse me?”

“You don’t even talk to them! You stand around, watching them like some creep instead of being normal! In case you haven’t figured it out yet, we’re all on the same ship. You might be a princess, but the least you could do is lower yourself to have a conversation,” Zuko said the last part with sarcasm that Azula would have appreciated if it weren’t directed at her.

Azula kept herself from becoming hysterical. Like him. “Have a conversation? Like you just did?”

“Yes!” Zuko exclaimed, exasperated.

“Well, I don’t know if it’s occurred to you, but last I checked, a shouting match with an adult doesn’t count as a conversation.”

Somehow, Zuko turned even redder. “At least I’m trying! You don’t talk to anyone, you don’t do anything besides spar them, and you keep entirely to yourself. That’s not gonna help them like you!”

“Your shouting isn’t helping you.”

“At least I’m acting properly!”

At his words, Azula physically staggered back, then corrected herself. She stood taller (and she was taller, the hems of her clothes had to be let out), took a breath she shouldn’t have needed, and willed herself not to yell.

_ Command. You shouldn’t have to shout to demonstrate your power. Speak forcefully. Those who shout are all talk and no power. _

“I’m not the one whose behavior had to be corrected constantly,” she spat back, throwing acid into her words.

Whatever words Zuko was going to throw back at her died in his throat. She smirked as he huffed and turned away.

Still, he wasn’t entirely wrong. Azula realized she didn’t know a single sailor’s name, despite having spent a year on this spirits-damned rust thing called a ship.

_ I don’t need to know their names, they’re beneath me. _

_ You’re all on the same ship. You could lower yourself to have a conversation. _

_ I do need to know the information. Knowledge is power. And power keeps people alive. _

_ I need to have a little bit of control. _

Snapping out of her thoughts, Azula noticed the sailors staring at her. To be fair, she was standing in the middle of the ship doing absolutely nothing except for drifting off into the Spirit World.

She held her chin up and went below deck. She traveled the halls to get to her room.

No matter how inconvenient it was, she changed her route so she wouldn’t have to go past the infirmary.

Taking a piece of parchment and a brush she’d swiped from Uncle’s office to write her letters, she sat on the floor and drafted her message to the most qualified person she knew.

If Mother were still around, Azula would have dared to ask her. Somehow, Mother knew all the servants' names and treated them as equals. It was strange, but it worked. They liked her better than Father, the traitors.

Maybe Mother would have sat her down and explained her secrets. Maybe that explanation would have made sense to Azula. Maybe it would have been something pleasant to remember Mother by.

Well, those maybes hadn’t happened before she left. It was useless to dwell on them.

Writing to Mother wasn’t an option. So Azula wrote to Ty Lee instead.

_ Dear Ty Lee, _

_ I’m sure you’ve heard of my situation by now. It’s been so long since we’ve last talked. How are you? Can you do an aerial yet? I remember you were close to getting it right before I left. When this is all over, I want you to teach me. You promised me you would, and I’m going to hold you to it. _

_ I need to ask you to do something for me. It’s been brought to my attention that I’ve neglected the other people on my ship as I focused to improve myself. I fear I’ve lost the opportunity to build connections with them. Sincerely, you are the most charming person I know. Do you have any suggestions as to how I can remedy the situation? I would like to get to know them, if only for the sake of knowledge itself. I don’t know where to start. If you have any advice, I’m willing to listen. _

_ Thanks, _

_ Azula _

_ (P.S. If you see Mai, tell her hello from me. I haven’t talked to her either.) _

She sent it like she sent all her letters to Father. Same hawk, same seal, same container, though she obviously addressed it differently. If she had done the math right, the hawk should come back with a response a month from now.

Azula waited, but she was not idle. She didn’t know where to start, so she did what she did know.

Despite her best efforts to forget, she remembered how Mother used to look. That information turned out to be useful after all. She used her makeup to make herself look softer, more pleasant. She brightened her face, eased up on her contour, and used less on her eyes.

It was disconcerting, and she almost panicked, thinking  _ It’s not perfect _ before she calmed herself down.  _ It’s perfect for what I need right now _ .

She talked to herself, keeping the usual sneer and sarcasm out of her voice. She kept her voice smooth, but not airy like Ty Lee’s. Her voice was still her own, but she changed pitches and inflections to suit her purpose. Through all her experiments, her conviction and strength remained, steel under the silk of pleasantry.

_ You sound weak _ , a voice that resembled her Father’s shouted in her mind.

Calmly and pleasantly, she countered,  _ No. I sound nice. _

Father would have thought those were the same thing. Azula was beginning to disagree.

During all this time, she didn’t show anyone her work. Only when she had perfected it, (and done it consistently, over and over and over again), and compared it to what she remembered of Mother and Ty Lee did she dare to make the change.

Steeling herself, Azula put on her new face. The mirror reflected a softer version of herself, and while she was growing used to seeing it, it was still so alien. She looked shockingly like Mother this way. She didn’t know how to feel about that, but her heart seemed to warm and freeze at the same time. Strange.

Only the way in which she carried herself stayed the same, proud and strong, and the familiarity of it grounded her. She kept her head high as she walked out of the room.

She made her way above deck and stood at the rail overlooking the ocean. Judging from the position of the sun, it was nearly dusk. Soon, the stars would be out, and Azula could look and see how far away she was from home.

The calculations comforted her. The ache the knowledge brought about in her chest did not. She continued doing it every night anyway.

To her right, a small group of sailors bickered over a game of Pai Sho. She hated that game, mostly because Uncle loved it. But people bonded over games, right?

Before she left the rail, she took a deep breath, making sure to inhale the now familiar salt smell of the sea.

She stood and watched them play until the round ended. As the biggest of the group stood and cheered in victory, she stepped forward.

“Can I play this round?” Azula made sure her voice kept steady, but she asked in her most polite tone, one fit for court’s most boring days.

All three sailors turned to her, the biggest stopping himself mid-cheer. The one closest to her, on her left, recovered first.

“Sure, why not?” he said with a laugh and two pointed looks at his friends. “Do you know how to play?”

“Yes, I know the rules, I’ve read them before.”

The big one sat back at the table. Up close, he really was huge. Head and shoulders taller than Azula and twice as wide with muscle. She remembered seeing him work in the engine room, but she wasn’t completely sure. “You’ve never played?”

“I don’t play with Uncle.”

The one to her left, a wiry man who had an impressive topknot and usually sat in the crow’s nest, leaned in conspiratorially. “Neither do we. He wins every fucking time.”

He smirked when Azula giggled at the curse. The one to her right remained silent.

Topknot distributed the chips. “I’m winning this time, assholes. You’re excluded from that, Princess.”

“No you’re not,” Big said. “I’m keeping my streak.”

The other sailor still stayed silent. Azula thought she’d heard him talk earlier, but maybe he was mute.

“Here you are,” Topknot gave her the pieces with a smile.

Big said, “Good luck, rookie.”

And the game was on.

\------

Azula won. To be fair, her opponents were very stupid, and she’d always been good at strategy.

Also, she’d watched them sometimes and learned how the played. It wasn't her fault they were so predictable. Surely that didn’t count as cheating.

Big stared at the board, dumbfounded. “You gotta be fucking kidding me.”

Topknot cackled. “Holy shit, you got your ass kicked by a twelve year old!”

“You did too,” Big shot back, sullen.

Azula sat back, smiling and giggling.

“A few more games and she’ll beat the General.”

“I’d wager she’s already a contender.”

“Thank you, but I’m done for right now,” Azula said as she stood up to Big and Topknot’s protests. “It was nice playing with you…”

The other sailor broke his silence. “Agni’s dick, she doesn’t even know our names.”

Topknot glared at him. “Hey man, watch it.”

“No, I’m not gonna fucking watch it. She ignores us for a whole spirits-damned year on a miniature ship where you run into other people every five steps, then all of a sudden is nice and playing Pai Sho? I don’t buy it. She’s got ulterior motives, or Iroh forced her to do this shit. We’ve all seen how much of a little jerk she’s been, especially to her brother, who frankly, deserves it-”

_ I hate it when Father shouts _ , Azula thought absently.  _ Wait. That’s a strange thing to think right now. _

Regardless, she kept herself still out of habit.

In two steps, Big put himself in between Azula and Jerk. “That’s enough.”

“Let me finish.” Jerk leaned around him to lock eyes with Azula. “You don’t get to be a spoiled little brat for an entire year then switch to Little Miss Perfect at the drop of a hat. That’s not how it works. You don’t get to pull a 180 like this-”

“Maybe she’s trying-”

“Go easy on her, she’s just a kid-”

Azula shot a jet of flame in the middle of the argument, taking care that it didn’t actually harm them, as much as she wanted it to. Uncle never would have let her hear the end of it. 

“I am right here,” she spat, seething. “And I am done.”

“No come on, don’t let this asshole spoil it-”

Azula ignored them and stalked away to her room below deck.

When the door slammed behind her, she let her thoughts race.

_ They hate Zuko, so they’re supposed to like me. Why don’t they like me? What did I do wrong? _

_ This didn’t work. It’s never going to work. Why did I even try why didn’t I listen to Father why did I let myself be this weak I promise I’ll be strong from here on out I won’t do this again. _

\------

After a month, the hawk came back. The letter was still in its holder. Unopened.

_ Ty Lee didn’t care enough about me to even read the letter. _

As much as Azula wanted to snap the neck of the messenger hawk when she saw it, Uncle was right there, and she knew he wouldn’t approve. Instead, she mustered all the dignity she could and took the letter back to her room.

She ripped it to shreds to keep herself from crying. She would not stoop to that level of weakness.

_ Power over pleasantry,  _ she resolved.


	11. Changing Course

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Azula makes some counter adjustments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do I even have to do these notes anymore? Probably not. Will I continue? Yes. Thanks to the usual suspects, and for all my American readers, I hope you had a happy Thanksgiving!

_ Being soft didn’t work, so being sharp will _ .

Azula’s memory of Father was much clearer than her memory of Mother, obviously. She stared into the mirror for a few minutes before putting on her makeup, scowling at her face.

_ Zuko is lucky. He looks like Father. _

She hated her bare face.

It wasn’t hard to make herself sharper. She had what she needed, and Father’s face was always (always  _ always _ ) fresh in her mind. After a few trials, she had it. Sharp cheekbones, sharp eyeliner, red lips. Vibrant but not inhuman.

She looked more like him, but not masculine. Feminine and sharp. Azula searched her face for any remnants of Mother and found none.

Finally, she looked like herself.

While she changed her face, she changed her speech too. She abandoned the silk and softness and became steel, blindingly and undoubtedly strong.

She didn’t make that more masculine either. Mimicking tone and inflection didn’t change the pitch of her voice at all. Feminine did not mean weak. Weakness existed in all types of people.

With every adjustment, she talked to Zuko, scanning his face when she spoke. Most of her rejoiced when she saw his reactions to her new harshness. A weak part of her felt guilty. She ignored it.

Finally, she sounded like herself.

Most of the sailors treated her the same as she treated them:  _ Stay out of my way and I’ll stay out of yours _ .

Big and Topknot tried to talk to her, but she brushed them off and kept walking each time.

Somehow, they were never angry with her. The few times she glanced back to see their faces, they whispered to each other and shook their heads sadly.

That taught her to stop glancing back. Forward progress was more important anyway.

Through it all, she carried herself the same way. Head high, eyes ahead, prepared for anything.

Finally, she was herself.

\------

Uncle was doing a very poor job of getting Azula to talk to him.

He asked during breakfast. “Princess Azula, would you want to play a game of Pai Sho with me?”

Big and Topknot probably told him that she’d played with them. Traitors.

“No, Uncle, I have more important things to do.” With that, she cleared her place and searched for an excuse.

She spent the day watching the men in the engine rooms. It was sweltering and boring as anything. But sweaty robes were less uncomfortable than whatever conversation Uncle obviously wanted to have with her.

The next day, he tried again. He knocked on her door, and, without asking who it was, Azula snapped “Come in.”

_ Stupid. _ It appeared she still only expected servants to knock on her door.

Uncle opened it tentatively, and stood in the door. “Princess Azula, I have a gift for you,” he said plainly.

Warily, she looked up from her sketches of the stars and stared at the scroll in his hands. She put her sketches face down on the bed and slowly crossed over to Uncle. She plucked the scroll from his hands and opened it to read the title.

_ Love Amongst the Dragons. _

Really? Theater? Azula couldn’t decide if this was worse than the stupid doll he gave her a few years ago, but it was close, regardless.

Instead of shoving it back into his hands like she wanted to, she tossed it on to her bed and faced Uncle again. 

She raised an eyebrow as if to say  _ Well? Are you done bothering me? _

Uncle got the hint. He gave her a small bow and left, closing the door behind him.

Azula climbed back on her bed and continued sketching. She was almost finished with the last constellation for the night, a large one she’d named the Blue Dragon for its outline of mostly blue stars.

As she finished tracing the outline, she eyed up the theater scroll Uncle left her. She hated theater so much, but she was bored without something to do.

With a sigh, she lit the lamp next to her bed and began to read.

\------

“Melodramatic trash,” Azula said, throwing the script down onto the table in front of Uncle.

He choked on his food before composing himself. “And why do you think that?” he asked, failing to keep the laughter out of his voice.

Azula set her own plate down on the table. “It just is. Miscommunications are rarely that disastrous, and there were so many ways to just correct the situation. The villain’s speech was long and I almost fell asleep reading it, and the deaths were boring. How do you make death boring?”

“I take it you’re not a fan of the play.”

“Theater in general,” Azula grumbled before shoving food in her mouth.

Uncle smiled. “Me neither.”

Azula swallowed, perplexed. “Then why did you give it to me?”

“Just to see what would happen.”

“I hate you,” Azula deadpanned. As the words left her mouth, she found for the first time, she didn’t mean them. Strange.

Uncle barked a laugh. “So it’s Zuko who likes theater, then, and not you?”

“I thought that was obvious, Uncle. You’ve seen the way he acts.”

Azula wasn’t joking, but Uncle found her funny anyway. Normally, she would have been annoyed by this. Now, she found it a little amusing herself.

A smile twitched at the corners of her mouth. She let it run its course.

\-----

Conversations with Uncle weren’t a one-time thing, Azula learned. He tried to talk to her at least once a week. Sometimes she let him, sometimes she didn’t. When she did, she still pretended she was busy and that he was interrupting something important.

Until he suggested something else.

“How would you like to learn to bend lightning?” he asked one day while they were standing at the rail, overlooking the sea.

Azula turned to him, surprised, but she took care not to let it show. “Yes. I want to learn.”

“Not so fast,” Uncle said, and Azula knew he’d picked up on her overeager tone. “First, you’ll learn to redirect it.”

She nodded. That made sense.

Uncle led her away from the rail and to the stern of the ship, where she and all the other firebenders practiced. Luckily, it was empty.

Uncle settled into an unfamiliar stance. Azula copied him.

“The technique I’m about to teach you is one I learned by studying the waterbenders,” Uncle said while moving his arms in a motion Azula didn’t recognize.

“Why are you teaching me this if it’s not a firebending technique? I don’t need to learn waterbending.”

Uncle looked at her, and the expression on his face told her he’d expected this. “It is important to draw wisdom from many different places. If you take it only from one place, it becomes rigid and stale.”

“Yes, but we should only take it from good sources. The Fire Nation conquered the Water Tribes. We don’t have anything to learn from them.”

Now, Uncle stopped his motions. “The war is not over yet, Princess Azula. The Water Tribes are not fully subdued. Few peoples can survive on the losing side of a war for so long. I think we can learn a lot from them.”

“So their resilience is something to admire, in a way, even though it’s frustrating for us?”

For a second, Uncle opened his mouth as if to say something else, but he quickly shut it and nodded. It wasn’t very reassuring, but Azula thought she understood somewhat, and that was fine for now.

“Waterbenders deal with the flow of energy. A waterbender lets their defense become their offense, turning their opponents' energy against them. I learned a way to do this with lightning. If you let the energy in your own body flow, the lightning will follow it.”

_ Like the current of the sea, _ Azula thought.

“You must create a pathway from your fingertips, up your arm to your shoulder, then down into your stomach. The stomach is the source of energy in your body. It is called the sea of chi. From the stomach, you direct it up again, and out the other arm. The stomach detour is critical. You must not let the lightning pass through your heart, or the damage could be deadly. You may wish to try a physical motion, to get a feel for the pathways' flow, like this. Now, are you focusing your energy? Can you feel your own chi flowing in, down, up, and out?”

Azula never really bought into the idea of chi. Sure, her tutors had used the theory with her before, but she didn’t like to think of her bending that way. Fire flowed through her veins, and she directed it however she wished, felt its course and where it pooled in specific areas. That’s what made sense to her, so that’s what she did.

It worked out well, so she was doing something right.

She mirrored Uncle’s physical motions until it felt too repetitive for her, like an easy kata.

“I think you’ve got it,” Uncle said, stopping.

“I think so too. I’m ready to try it.” Azula crouched down further in the stance.

Confusion flashed over Uncle’s face. “What?”

Azula rolled her eyes. “With real lightning.”

“No,” Uncle stated firmly. “I will not shoot lighting at you.”

Now Azula was confused. “What do you mean? I have to learn somehow.”

“Lightning is incredibly dangerous. I will not risk hurting you.”

“You just taught me how to defend against it. Do you not trust your own teaching?”

For a second, Uncle was at a complete loss for words. Then he took a breath. “Princess Azula. You are a child. I would not be able to forgive myself if I hurt you.”

“I’m not a child!” Azula exclaimed.  _ No. Don’t yell. Never ever yell back. _

“Princess Azula. You are twelve years old.”

His soft, firm tone only infuriated her more. “Father’s a better teacher than you! He would have tested me!”

She nearly shrank back from her own voice.  _ Never ever yell back. Idiot, stupid, you know the consequences- _

But Uncle wasn’t Father. He did look angry for a second, as she expected, but then his expression changed to one of profound hurt.

_ What in Agni’s name is happening _ , Azula thought to herself.

Azula turned and left before she could think about it. She went to her room and practiced the motion over and over and over again, wondering what it would be like to have lightning flow through her veins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you’re feeling fancy, drop a comment or a kudo!


	12. Cerulean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Azula makes some discoveries about her bending.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Sorry this got out to you so late in the day. It's a bit short, but I hope you all think it's worth it!
> 
> Also, the chapter count is adjusted because I'm considering cutting or consolidating two future "filler chapters". As a rule, the chapter count will never increase to be more than 20, but it might decrease.

Uncle finally started teaching Azula challenging forms, and she loved it. The thrill of pushing herself near the limit and achieving her goal was exhilarating every time. She progressed quickly and flawlessly.

Until she didn’t.

They were back at the stern of the ship. Uncle had left Azula to practice while he guided Zuko through a form Azula had mastered two years ago. A few times, Azula glanced over to see how he was doing. Each time she did, he stamped his foot, or waved his arms in frustration. She didn’t understand how. It was truly an easy form, unlike the one Uncle had given her to do.

He’d demonstrated it once, which was all Azula needed to memorize the sequence. But she still couldn’t do it right. Two punches, kick, duck, punch again, flip back to retreat, dodge twice, kick, and end with breath of fire. 

Easy. It should have been easy.

And the physical movements were. Azula barely broke a sweat doing them. They were similar to the forms she’d practiced earlier this week, after the lightning incident. She had a feeling Uncle taught her them in this order so they built on each other. Smart.

But the breath of fire kept eluding her. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t make it happen.

She tried to imagine the fire coursing from her blood, into her throat, and out of her nose and mouth. Nothing. Not even a spark.

So she adjusted. She imagined being a dragon, exhaling fire every time it snarled. Nope. It didn’t work.

Soon, Azula grew more frantic. She went through the form another time. Two punches, kick, duck, punch again, flip back to retreat, dodge twice, kick, and end with breath of fire.

Nothing came out. Not a single spark.

Azula resolved to keep calm.  _ Stay levelheaded. Nothing good comes if I lose my temper. I am in control. It’s my body, and my bending. _

_ If it’s your body and your bending, why can’t you do something as simple as breath of fire? _

Instead of responding to the second voice, she glanced up once again at Uncle and Zuko. This time, Zuko was smiling. It was such a rare expression that she almost let the surprise show on her face.

Uncle made a motion, and Zuko launched into his easy sequence. Azula named the movements in the instant before he did them. Kick, punch, duck, punch, kick, kick.

At the end, a small flame blew out of Zuko’s mouth. It was so dim and dull red Azula almost didn’t see it, but it was there.

It was there, and hers wasn’t.

She wasn’t even sure if he’d done it intentionally. That made it worse. If Zuko could do something like that without even noticing, what was she doing wrong?

_ Why can’t I do it? It should be easy. If Zuko can do it, it’s easy. I’ve done easy things before, so I can do this. So do it. Why can’t I do it? _

The thoughts surrounded her and caused her to be so dead to the world that she didn’t notice Uncle coming toward her until it was nearly too late.

_ Imbecile. He’s coming to see you do it and you can’t. You’re not going to be able to do it, and it’s going to end badly. You know because you’ve seen. Father always made you watch, and it worked. _

“Can you show me how you’re doing, Princess Azula?” Uncle asked. He always  _ asked, _ never demanded. Azula thought it was kind of nice.

Her voice would have betrayed her, so Azula nodded and started the sequence. She was able to push the panic out of her mind just enough to do the physical movements perfectly.

Two punches, kick, duck, punch again, flip back to retreat, dodge twice, kick, and end with breath of fire.

No flame.

After she finished Azula discreetly adjusted her stance, so she wouldn’t topple over. Her knees were jelly, and she couldn’t count on her legs to hold her up.

She could barely hear Uncle over the roar of her heartbeat in her ears.

At the palace, this never happened. Azula mastered the form in the time allotted, always. She did it perfectly, always. She never needed more time or needed to be corrected.

And she knew the rules in the palace were much different than the rules on the ship. She knew. But she didn’t dare get her hopes up.

Uncle continued to surprise her. “Good job with the sequence. Breath of fire is tricky, but I’m sure after a few more runs with it, you’ll get it. That can wait until tomorrow. You did well today, Princess Azula.”

He said it all with a smile, and that’s what broke her.

“I should have gotten this one on the first try,” she said, resisting the urge to mutter.

Uncle frowned at her, not in a  _ this-is-going-to-be-bad-for-you _ way, but in a  _ i’m-confused-and-i’m-uncle _ way. Azula’s mind knew the difference before her heart rate did.

“We can’t be good at everything on the first try. It took me ages to get this sequence right. You’re doing well.”

“Zuzu can do breath of fire.”

Uncle paused, appearing to weigh his words. “Yes. He will have to learn to control it. You will learn to produce it. His task is harder than yours.”

“I don’t care if it’s harder!” Azula snapped, not caring anymore. “If Zuko can do it, I should be able to do it. That’s how it is.”

“People have different strengths and weaknesses-”

“No! I’m better. I’m better and I always have been and always need to be.”

She turned away from Uncle and ran through the sequence again. And again. And again.

Still nothing.

Her face heated with rage, and her hands shook from it. As she moved her head, she felt her topknot become loose.

Agni, she must look a wreck.

Azula took a breath, held it, and let it out. It didn’t diminish her rage. But maybe it didn’t have to.

She focused her anger into a single point, with one single goal:  _ Get this right. _

She ran through it again, this time with her fury as a companion, not fuel. It wouldn’t impede her.

Two punches, kick, duck, punch again, flip back to retreat, dodge twice, kick, and end with breath of fire.

Flame rushed from her mouth.

_ Blue _ flame. Blue as a clear sky at noon.

Quickly, she turned to face Uncle again. He was agape, his face clearly showing the shock she felt.

Blue fire. It was unheard of.

Experimentally, she lit a small flame in her hand. Blue.

She punched out. Blue.

She crouched low and spun in a kick. Blue fire licked across the deck before fizzling out.

Azure, cerulean, cobalt,  _ blue. _ And she wasn’t even trying. 

For a second, Azula wondered if it meant something bad, especially that her fire wouldn’t go back to normal.

From Uncle’s expression, which settled into wary pride, she didn’t think so.

Before she left, she gave him a quick bow, as was customary. She hoped it made up for all the times she left without it.

As she climbed down below deck, she nearly ran into Zuko.

“Watch it,” he said, without his usual harshness. So he was still feeling his success from earlier.

Without thinking, Azula held her hand out and lit it. Still blue.

Zuzu’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. “What the fuck?”

Azula extinguished the flame. “I’m not sure either. Uncle looked surprised.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

They stood there for another awkward beat.

“You should get to your room,” Zuko said bluntly.

“How’d you know that’s where I was going?”

“It’s where you always go.”

“You should go above deck.”

“How’d you-oh. Got it.” Zuko took a step on to the ladder. “Your makeup is a bit messed up, by the way. Just letting you know.”

“You’re going to need to control you breath of fire. Just so you know.”

“Asshole.”

“Jerk.”

Zuzu climbed up the ladder and out of sight.

Azula could definitely say that was the longest and most positive conversation she’d had with her brother in a while. Remembering what he said, she raced to her room.

\-------

Only Zuzu could make such massive understatements.

_ A bit messed up _ meant smeared eyeliner, patchy foundation, and entirely missing lipstick. Unacceptable.

Azula felt the rage rise up in her. Decisively, she swallowed it back down.

_ Anger is a companion, not a fuel. _

Hmm. The first lesson she’d taught herself. It had more weight than the ones Father taught her.

Expertly, she wiped her face clean and reapplied her makeup perfectly. Even if everything went to shit, she could do this. She could control this.


	13. Deceive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A look at Azula's lies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for getting this out so late in the day. I hope the length makes up for it. This chapter was not beta read, so all errors are mine. I hope you like it, and thanks for reading!
> 
> Yeah, the chapter count got chopped down again, but this should be the final number for book 1. I'm working on outlining book 2 right now!
> 
> TW: mention of child abuse at the beginning. If you want to skip it, just skip the first section.

Azula had always been a talented liar. Like firebending, and makeup, and laughing at Zuko, it was something that came naturally to her. She spun tales and deceived and tricked and laughed when her target realized the ruse.

Mother hadn’t liked it much. Every time Azula lied to her, she sighed.

“Azula, lying is wrong. You should always tell the truth.” And on and on she went.

In response, Azula improved. The problem was with her getting caught, so she made sure it didn’t happen.

Father praised her. He told her that lying was a useful skill to have in a ruler’s arsenal. It was her victim’s fault for believing her. She believed him. 

She practiced on Zuko.

He was just so trusting. It made it too easy.

Azula couldn’t remember when she’d started lying. The earliest instance she could remember (though she doubted it was the first) was when she was five and Zuzu was seven.

It was summer in the Fire Nation, and summer meant rain. Rain meant Azula was stuck inside, and that meant Azula was bored.

She didn’t like being bored, so she got an idea.

She had excitedly burst into Zuzu’s room. “Zuzu! Come see! The turtleducks are out!”

The confusion on his face threatened to make her laugh and reveal the lie too early. “No, they’re not. It’s raining outside. They don’t want to get wet in the rain.”

Azula rolled her eyes. “They don’t care about getting wet. They live in a pond. Besides, dum-dum, turtleducks like the rain better.”

“I saw seven last time, with Mother.”

That stung, but only because Mother had banned her from going to the pond. She’d said Azula was throwing the bread at them, but Azula was only trying to feed them. Honest.

She had dashed over to him, instead of standing there in the doorway.

“I promise you’ll see double this time,” she whispered, pasting on her best smile.

His eyes widened an impossible amount. “Fourteen? Really?”

“Really,” she had said with all the confidence in the world.

She’d only become a more confident liar since then.

He launched out of bed so fast he’d nearly run her over. They sprinted to the courtyard, where Azula stayed in the dry hall.

Zuko stopped when she did. “Aren’t you coming out, too?”

“No. I don’t really want to see them as much as you do.”

Another lie. If the turtleducks were actually there, Azula would have gone out in a heartbeat. If she were a betting girl, she would have wagered that she liked them even more than Zuzu.

Instead of contesting her, Zuko shrugged and ran over to the pond despite the torrential downfall. He searched the whole pond, circling around it and crouching near, looking to see anything. When he didn’t, he stood back up again, faced Azula, and sprinted back at her.

She let out a delighted shriek and took off herself, tearing down the hall, turning left, then right, then left again in order to lose him.

But Zuko was faster and taller, and he caught up to her quickly. He tackled her, the momentum sending them both sliding into a wall with a soft, harmless _thump_. 

“Ew! Your clothes are wet!”

“Whose fault is that?”

They wrestled on the floor, their shouting at each other soon dissolving into laughter, then anger again when Zuko pulled Azula’s hair too hard. In response, she’d poked him in the arm to let her go.

He did, without warning, and her head would have hit the marble floor if her foot hadn’t already been there.

“Ow,” he said, rolling down his sleeve.

This was back when Azula had cared, so she unfolded herself from the undignified contortion and scootched in to see.

A bruise the size of her whole thumb stood out stark purple on his skin.

Even at five, Azula knew she didn’t cause it. “Where’d you get it from?

“Learning.” Zuzu stated flatly.

He wasn’t as good a liar as she was.

And he never got any better.

\-------

While living in the palace, Azula _did_ get better.

“I understand, Mother. I won’t do it again.” She lied to get out of lectures.

“No, Zuzu, I don’t want to play with you.” She lied because Father asked her to.

“I promise I’m not jealous, Ty Lee. After all, I can bend.” She lied to protect her pride.

“Zuzu, you firebend like a baby.” She lied because Father told her to.

“Knives are boring, Mai. Firebending is much cooler.” She lied to hide her interest.

“I know. I want him to stop as much as you do, Zuzu.” She lied because she knew Father wanted her to.

Some of those lies became true. Most didn’t.

And she never lied to Father. He was always honest with her. She decided to give him the same courtesy.

That, and she knew he’d catch her. Father was the only one better than her.

\-------

On the ship, Azula worried she’d lose her touch. Uncle would catch her, she knew. Somehow, he could always sense her dishonesty. It was more than a little uncanny.

Lying to the crew was boring. They all hated her, so they wouldn’t have trusted what she said anyway. And lying wasn’t fun unless it was believable. Any fool could make something up, but only talented liars could trick people. And tricking people was the best part.

Zuko was still easy to lie to. Despite all the times she’d lied to him when they were children (smaller children, at least) his trust in her never broke. Strange. She couldn’t understand it. 

She didn’t know the rules at first on the ship, so she stayed honest, or, more commonly, quiet.

 _If you can’t say anything nice, Azula, don’t say anything at all._ Mother’s lessons never stuck as well as Father’s, but this one frequently popped into Azula’s head, only to be ignored.

But her promise to Uncle changed the game. He told her not to tell Zuzu that Father sent them away for nothing. Since then, she’d expanded it: no helping, no rumors, no hope. 

_Under no circumstances will I give Zuzu false hope._

Since then, Uncle never corrected her or told her to stop, so she must have been doing something right.

At the Air Temples, she had little reason to lie. There was nothing to mislead him about, as they were barren. While they were searching the colonies and coastal towns, Azula decided to hone her craft. 

They were about to dock in the first town when Azula yanked Zuko back by his collar. Uncle watched, but didn’t say anything.

“You can’t just waltz into this town and say you’re a prince. You’re banished. These are loyal Fire Nation citizens. They won’t help you if they know.”

Zuko stared at her as if she were stupid. “No, my status will scare them into helping me, if anything.”

“Yes, because fear is always the best and most fool-proof motivator, and it worked so well at the Northern Air Temple” Azula drawled. She said it sarcastically, despite believing the words to be true.

As she’d suspected, Zuzu now doubted his plan.

“She’s right,” Uncle said suddenly. Azula had forgotten he was there. “It’s better if we disguise ourselves.”

Azula shot him an annoyed look. She was doing fine. He didn’t have to step in.

He smiled in response. _Jerk._

Uncle signaled two of the sailors to bring them traveling cloaks. Azula quickly took her hair down and styled it into a low bun. She tucked her hair piece into a pocket of her cloak. Inconspicuous. She could do that.

They disembarked the ship, accompanied by five soldiers, also disguised, but poorly. The soldiers still moved with military precision, which easily identified them in this civilian town.

At the gates, the guards simply waved them through. No safety measures, no questions. Azula could smell the alcohol on the breath of the closest one. Ew.

As much as she wanted to be alone, Azula didn’t split up their group. The guards at the gate may have been relaxed, but she didn’t know this town. Better to be safe.

Zuko walked between her and Uncle, scanning the buildings on the street for some poor citizen to harass about a children’s tale. Smart to have Uncle guarding his blind side. Azula would have tripped him on purpose just to watch him fall.

Abruptly, he stopped in front of the marketplace and began to scan the stalls, looking for the first person to ask.

Uncle grabbed Zuko’s sleeve and gently tugged him over to the side of the street, to get him out of the way. Zuko jerked out of his hold and began to walk toward the group. Azula blocked his path, grabbed him by the shoulders, steered him around, and pushed him back to Uncle.

The soldiers behind her were laughing. If they thought she was so funny, well, someone would be extra crispy later.

Or, they would have been. But now her fire was too identifiable. Meh. She’d singe their eyebrows off in their sleep back on the ship.

_The shopkeepers will have the most information of anyone in the town. Information is exchanged along with goods and services. If anyone is likely to give him hope, it’s them._

“You shouldn’t ask them anything, though,” Azula chimed in.

Uncle and Zuko turned to her with matching expressions of surprise.

“Why not?” Zuko asked.

“Well, they’ll tell you anything you want to hear if it means there’s a chance one of us will become a client. If you go in asking about the Avatar, they’ll tell you whatever so long as they get some business out of it.”

Over Zuzu’s shoulder, Uncle nodded once, impressed. Azula allowed herself a smile.

Zuko nodded thoughtfully. “That makes sense.”

“Start with the soldiers,” Azula added. “They’re the ones at the gates. They keep tabs on all the suspicious people. If anyone has information on the Avatar, it’ll be them.”

Zuko didn’t look completely convinced, but he acquiesced. “Alright, first the soldiers, then the shop owners.”

They didn’t find anything out that day, but Uncle did waste an infuriating hour searching for a new tea set.

\------

“Zuzu, the big port towns aren’t going to help you. Do you really think that people will remember seeing one, specific old man?”

“There’s no way that description is still accurate. Don’t you think he would have covered his tattoos if all his people were destroyed by genocide?”

“Oh, Agni, if you ask around that many times, people are going to think we’re suspicious. Do the words ‘low-profile’ mean anything to you?”

\------

As they traveled, Azula wove more stories in her head and found more people to practice on.

“What’s a little girl like you doing in this part of the world?”

“Oh, my uncle is a merchant, and I’m travelling with him for a while. He’s planning his next route to Caldera, and we’re mapping out some possible refueling spots.”

“You don’t look colony.”

“I get that a lot. My father says that one of my great grandfathers, an officer during the war, conquered my home town for the Fire Nation. I look a lot like him, apparently.”

“You speak strangely. Like an aristocrat.”

“I worked in a governor’s house as a maid for a few years. He let me spend time with his children, and I picked up how they spoke. It’s strange, how it sticks with you, even after you leave.”

“What are you doing traveling with soldiers?”

“My uncle is a soldier, and had to take my brother and I in. We don’t have any other family. It was either that or an orphanage, and at least we’re fed here.”

\------

Another year passed in the time they investigated the coast.

In that time, Azula learned to lie.

She smoothed her tone, creating an air of honest confidence.

She mimicked the language of people around her to throw off any suspicion.

She acted casually and suppressed every tell she could find.

She realized that most lies are rooted in truth.

She created scripts for the most common questions she was asked and for some uncommon ones too.

She learned that most people are inclined to believe a liar when they are personable.

(She was still working on that one.)

Soon, Uncle let her do all the talking, and she had loads of fun with it.

\------

_Father,_

_We have just finished investigating the coastal towns of the Earth Kingdom. As it is impossible to go further inland, we have decided to scope out more remote locations, and some islands. We don’t know what we’ll find._ ~~_I miss you._~~

_Yours,_

_Azula_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To my regular commenters, y'all are the best.


	14. Lightning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Azula learns to bend lightning and other lessons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to the usual suspects. This chapter was not beta read, so all mistakes are mine. Also, I just finished writing it literally now, so I'm sorry if it's slightly incoherent. It deviated a lot from the outline, but I think I like the new direction it took. I hope you do too!

Azula didn’t like surprises much. Surprises meant more lessons, or a demonstration, or a dead cousin, or a missing mother, or a dead grandfather, or more  _ lessons. _

As a result, everything she did was purposeful. Her firebending, her posture, her words, her clothes all held  _ intent. _

Azula didn’t like accidents much. So when she created sparks from her fingertips as she put on her eyeshadow one morning, she certainly didn’t drop the brush and flinch back harder than Zuko could ever dream of doing.

It didn’t make sense. What little Uncle had told her about lightning was that it was purposeful, intentional, and strongly tied to a bender’s will.

Azula had figured it was easy, but not so easy as to be accidental. For a moment, she was afraid, before she squashed the feeling down. 

She finished getting ready and went to find Uncle.

He was in his “office”, one of the rooms in his suite that held a writing desk and chair stationed in front of a porthole for maximum light. The desk’s surface held a currently unlit candle, a brush and ink, and a scroll of parchment. Bookcases lined the walls, all neatly organized and labeled according to category. Azula entered without knocking and stood on the large area rug that covered the floor.

Uncle sat in the chair, bent over the desk, scrutinizing the scroll in front of him. Azula had never seen him look so confused and concerned before. She moved to leave the room, but Uncle looked up from his reading and spotted her.

“Princess Azula!” he said, rolling up the scroll and slipping it into one of the drawers. It squeaked when it closed. “What is it you need?”

Azula said nothing. She held up her hand and snapped her fingers, trying to remember how she’d accidentally conjured the sparks only minutes before.

A large blue spark leapt from her hand and fell on to the rug. She squashed it with her shoe before it could catch. Good. Not even a scorch mark left behind.

When she looked back up, Uncle stared at her calmly. “Well, it looks like today’s lesson is going to be adjusted.”

\------

Apparently, Uncle decided to go full “Wise Teacher Mode.” What joy.

“Lightning is a pure form of firebending, without aggression. It is not fueled by rage or emotion the way other firebending is. Some call lightning the cold-blooded fire. It is precise and deadly.”

_ Alright, that doesn’t sound so hard. _

“To perform the technique requires peace of mind. There is energy all around us. The energy is both yin and yang. Positive energy and negative energy. Only a select few firebenders can separate these energies. This creates an imbalance. The energy wants to restore balance, and in a moment the positive and negative energy come crashing back together, you provide release and guidance, creating lightning.”

The theory made sense. Azula made a mental note to write it down later to ensure she didn’t forget it.

“Remember, once you separate the energy, you do not command it. You are simply its humble guide.”

_ I’m not a humble anything, but alright. _

Uncle demonstrated the movement, a simple, flowing series of arm circles, with two fingers on one hand extended. Azula copied him twice without putting any fire behind it.

On the third try, she fueled it with her fire. Two sparks floated from her fingers, landing on the rail.

She circled her arms again, keeping her mind the same as it was when she created blue fire. 

Anger is a companion, not a fuel.

Three sparks fired from her fingers in quick succession with more force than last time, but still nothing.

Fearfully, she looked at Uncle for his reaction. She found nothing on his face to indicate displeasure. It didn’t help her relax as much as she thought it would. 

“Try one more time for today,” he said. “Remember to maintain peace of mind.”

Azula breathed deeply and circled her arms again. She imagined her anger and her fear as two dragons curled calmly at her feet.

She pointed up at the sky and a small crackle left her hand, dissipating just before it hit the rail.

“A small step is better than no step at all,” Uncle said calmly. “Come. Please demonstrate a combination of the last two series you learned.”

Azula almost objected, but a small part of her knew she wouldn’t produce lightning in one, two, or even ten more tries.

To save herself the embarrassment, she followed Uncle’s instructions.

\------

As she walked to her room, Azula thought about what Uncle had said.

_ Precise and deadly. _

_ Separate the energy. _

_ Do not command. _

_ Not fueled by rage or emotion. _

More lessons. But these were not harsh ones. Maybe that’s why they were so difficult to learn.

She closed the door behind her as she entered her tiny room. Adrenaline still ran in her veins, and she wanted so badly to work through the night and show Uncle she  _ could _ do it, that she wasn’t a failure, that she wasn’t Zuko.

But Uncle didn’t expect that of her. He knew she wasn’t like Zuko. She didn’t have to prove it. 

Rather than exhaust herself, Azula got ready for bed. Each step was a struggle.

She wiped off her makeup.  _ You can practice. You have the time to do it now. _

She took her hair down.  _ How else are you supposed to learn? Uncle obviously isn’t a good teacher if you haven’t gotten it yet. _

She changed her clothes.  _ What are you if you aren’t perfect? Imperfection is weakness, and weakness is punished. Don’t be punished. _

By now, Azula had learned that these voices, the ones that talked to her instead of for her, were usually wrong. That didn’t mean it was any easier to ignore them.

She wiped off her makeup.  _ I need to sleep. _

She took her hair down.  _ Uncle is a good teacher. He’s taught me a lot. _

She changed her clothes.  _ Uncle doesn’t expect that of me. What he expects matters more than what I want from myself. _

Getting ready for bed was the hardest thing she’d ever done, harder than breath of fire. But she did it without running her forms until dawn or thinking about the theory behind creating lightning or creating the tingling sparks that ran over hands in beautiful patterns.

She did all of these things and learned the next morning, pushing through the crushing feeling of missed expectations that was growing slightly less every day.

\------

Lightning was difficult. It shouldn’t have been. The description fit her perfectly.  _ Cold blooded fire. Precise and deadly. _

Even after a few days, all she could create was a small crackle that extended no more than three feet from her body.

_ Precise and deadly, _ she thought sarcastically as she went through it again.

Uncle tried to reassure her. “That’s more than most firebenders can do at your age.” 

“A small bolt is better than nothing.” 

“It takes an immense amount of skill to do this. You’re doing well.”

She knew he meant well, but it only added to her frustration.

\------

Two weeks later, Azula stood at the rail with Uncle, watching him go through the motion she’d already memorized. She ran his words through her head to keep herself occupied.

_ Precise and deadly. _

_ Separate the energy. _

_ Do not command. _

_ Not fueled by rage or emotion. _

Something inside her head clicked.

Instead of keeping the rage beside her, as a companion and not a fuel, Azula imagined herself packing it into a little box. Not a big, metal contraption with chains and locks, but a nicely wrapped present. In her mind’s eye, she picked up the box and carried it to the back of her skull, where a little door stood. She opened it and slid the box inside, closing the door right after. She didn’t lock it. If she needed it, the box could be opened again.

After she did this, she felt lighter. Not emotionless, but the fury in her mind was quieter in its box, behind the door.

Azula went through the motions and felt the energy around her change. She quelled the excitement that threatened to distract her and felt the energy shift again, looking for an outlet.

She didn’t try to oppress it. Rather, she acknowledged its strength and felt it spark up in her. Quickly snapping her arm, Azula finished the form.

A bolt zipped out of her fingers and into the sky. It wasn’t very big or very bright, but it was  _ substantial. _ For the first time, Azula was able to accept that for what it was.

A small step was better than no step at all.

“Fantastic job, Princess Azula,” Uncle said, his tone betraying his excitement.

Azula couldn’t help it. She beamed, not caring how much of her face the smile took up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos make my day!


	15. Play Nice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we get some sibling interaction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I'm so sorry that this was delayed a day. My holidays were good, and if you celebrated, I hope yours were too! Thanks to my spectacular girlfriend who read this on incredibly short notice.
> 
> This chapter is a little longer, and I hope this was worth the extra wait!
> 
> Also I used Google for some names. If they're inaccurate, please let me know!
> 
> TW: references to child abuse

“Iroh, I can’t take it anymore! I quit!” the navigator shouted from Uncle’s office.

“Kaito, please, it’s not that bad-”

“General, I’ve only been staying because you asked me to. I miss my husband, and my daughter…”

Azula stopped paying attention to him when he got sappy. She turned her attention back to the math Uncle had given her.

“Just because you’re not in the palace anymore doesn’t mean your education needs to stop,” he had said months ago.

Azula was grateful for it. It was easy, mindless work that made sense, and it was a good distraction.

Before this, Azula hadn’t paid much attention to Kaito. He had stayed out of her way from the very beginning and continued to do so during her brief, stupid phase. Usually, he could be found consulting with Uncle or Jee on the best routes, where to stop next for supplies, and how to avoid the autumn winds. 

Now, she found Kaito to be very loud. Uncle’s office was three doors down from her room, and she heard him clear as day through the metal walls of the ship as he aired his grievances.

“We can’t go back to the Fire Nation, I’m sick of taking orders from a teenage boy, the princess is a sociopath-”

“No, she isn’t,” Uncle cut in sharply

“And the food is garbage-”

Azula resolved to stop paying attention to that particular disagreement and focused on finding _x_.

\-------

“What do you mean the navigator quit?” Zuko demanded as they pulled out of port. For someone who was supposed to be in charge of the ship, he was remarkably out of the loop.

Uncle shrugged. “He didn’t want to stay on anymore. It’s no matter. We’ll find a new one at our next stop.”

Zuko looked at Uncle like he was stupid. “How are we supposed to find our next stop without a navigator?”

Azula felt two pairs of eyes land on her. She ignored them and continued to look over the rail at the rapidly disappearing little town.

“Princess Azula,” Uncle prompted.

Reluctantly (and with a dramatic roll of her eyes) Azula turned around. “Yes, Uncle?”

“You can guide us to the next port.”

“I’m not qualified,” she lied easily. Hadn’t she done enough for this stupid little quest?

Uncle merely smiled at her. “Oh, I disagree. Kaito made replicas of your maps. He said they were the most accurate he’d ever seen.”

“He also said I was a sociopath, so I don’t really know if I trust him,” she said pleasantly.

Zuko snorted, and Azula almost joined him. It was kind of funny, mostly because Kaito was right.

Uncle’s face fell for just a second before he schooled it back. “Princess Azula, you will be taking us to the next port.”

It didn’t feel like one of Father’s orders, although it was an order. Strange.

\-------

Azula didn’t need the maps. The sky remained clear, and she used the stars to guide them. She barked orders at sailors who clearly resented her, but it didn’t matter. She was right, and in charge, and she got them to port easily and safely and without a hitch.

\-------

The new navigator was young.

Uncle didn’t consult Azula at all. While she went into the market alone (she never counted the guards that trailed her) to restock on her makeup, Zuzu and Uncle found a new navigator.

If she had to guess, she’d say that they picked the poor man up off the street. Not that he looked homeless, but he seemed terribly confused.

Then, she remembered her own confusion upon seeing their stupid little ship and thought it was reasonable.

“Princess Azula, this is Hidetada, our new navigator. I’d like you to show him the ropes, since he’s new to the trade,” Uncle said.

Azula leveled a glare at Hidetada, who quickly snapped his gaze to the floor. Too easy.

“Alright,” she said, still not taking her gaze off their new navigator.

He started to shiver, despite the warm air. This would be fun.

\-------

“I’m going to assume you’re not a complete idiot and that you can navigate with the sun, yes?” Azula asked as she walked across the deck, not looking at Hidetada.

“Yes, I can do that.”

“Fantastic,” she drawled. “And you know where the north star is for navigating at night? You know your basic constellations? The Lady, the King, the Bear?”

A beat of silence. Then, a slightly fainter “Yes, I know all of that.”

“Great. On to the maps. Keep up,” she snapped over her shoulder as she opened a door in the deck and descended below.

Briskly, she made her way to Uncle’s office, where two of the soldiers stood outside the door. She motioned for them to let her in before remembering that they were not palace guards.

She opened the door for herself, not caring to hold it open for Hidetada. She crossed over and sat in Uncle’s chair, scanning the maps on the desk to make sure they were the correct ones. They were.

Finally, she looked up. “Sit,” she said to Hidetada, who was still standing in the open doorway.

He sat, but didn’t close the door. Annoying, but it would do.

“Have you used maps before?”

He shook his head, then seemed to remember himself. “No, I haven’t. I just memorize everything.”

 _Impressive,_ Azula thought to herself, and she meant it genuinely.

“Smart,” she said instead, and leaned over the desk. “Do you see this map? I designed that constellation myself. The Blue Dragon. Its tail always points south, and its eye is the brightest star in the sky. It shines through even when there’s slight cloud cover. If you know the spacing, you can almost always find south.”

Hidetada nodded. “Alright.”

“And this one is called the Phoenix. Look at the map and tell me which star makes the tip of its beak.”

Silence. Azula took the opportunity to scan his face. Fear, apprehension, regret, changing constantly as he scrutinized the map.

A realization struck her. “You’re illiterate, aren’t you? That’s why you memorize everything. You have no other option, because you can’t use maps.”

Slowly, Hidetada nodded.

Azula smacked her forehead. “I can’t believe this. Of course Uncle and Zuzu would hire an illiterate navigator. Incompetant fools,” she muttered to herself.

“Princess, I-”

Azula cut him off with a sigh. “Get out. I can’t teach you if you can’t read. Go find Uncle and tell him you’re quitting.”

He leveled his gaze at her, and for once, didn’t look afraid. “I can’t do that, Princess. My family needs the money-"

“I can’t teach you,” she said back to him in the same tone. “I need you to know how to read.”

“It’s not my fault I was never taught!”

“It’s not my responsibility to teach you!” Azula almost shrank back at her volume, but she was in too deep now. “I didn’t sign up for this!”

“Well, I didn’t sign up to be verbally abused by a thirteen year old!”

“I’m fourteen!”

“What is happening?”

Both their heads swiveled toward the door. Uncle stood there, confused.

They pointed at each other.

“Your niece is a fucking menace!”

“You hired an illiterate navigator! What am I supposed to do with that, Uncle?”

At her exclamation, Uncle froze. So he didn’t know. Of course, he’d be that stupid.

“Hidetada, outside. I’ll speak to you later about this,” Uncle said.

“General Iroh, sir, I-”

“Not now. I will speak to my niece.”

Azula deflated. _Here comes the lecture._

 _No, that’s not right. Uncle doesn’t lecture. He_ explains _._

Hidetada left, and one of the soldiers closed the door behind him. Uncle sat down across the desk from Azula.

It occurred to her then that she was still in his chair. However, he made no indication that he wanted to switch, so she stayed.

Uncle was never one for easing into a conversation. Not with her, at least.

“I picked him because he said he was good at memorizing. You’re good at it too. I thought that if you could explain to him what he needed to know, it would be fine. He lied to me and said he could read.”

“Then it’s his fault!” Azula exclaimed, still fired up from the argument. She didn’t freeze at her tone.

It was Uncle. She was fine.

“Yes, that part is his fault. But you needed to be nicer, Princess Azula.”

“I’m not nice, Uncle,” she said quietly, but still with strength.

He continued, “You could have talked to him more kindly. His input is still valuable, even if it didn’t come in the form you wanted it to. Wisdom-”

“Must be drawn from many places,” Azula finished for him.

Uncle smiled. “Yes. Listen to other people. Talk to them. You’d be surprised at what you’ll learn.”

Every _lesson_ from Father screamed out against this.

_Your authority is absolute. You are a member of the royal family._

_Don’t contradict Father. Don’t do it don’t do it don’t do it._

_You are the best, Azula. You are perfect, Azula. You are worthy, Azula._

It was a little easier to ignore the _lessons_ , now. 

“Okay, Uncle,” she said.

\-------

As with all things, Zuzu was her test dummy.

He stood at the rail, overlooking the sea. The coast of the Earth Kingdom was but a little green speck miles and miles away. A peninsula, if Azula had to guess.

She slid over next to him on his able side so he could see and hear her.

For a minute, they stood in silence, staring at the water. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Zuko shooting her glances every few minutes.

Finally, he said something.

“If you want money for the next time we go into port, I don’t have any. Uncle keeps it all.”

“I know, I don’t want money.”

Zuko faced her, confused. “I’m not sparring with you. My shoulder is still fucked up from last time.”

Azula stopped herself from rolling her eyes at the curse. How uncouth. “Do I look like I’m dressed to spar?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you sparred in a wedding dress.”

Azula chuckled a little at that. “I haven’t really thought about that. No, but I don’t want to spar. I just want to talk.”

“You have never in our lives just wanted to talk.”

“Yes I have!”

“No, you’d do it as a diversion for something else. Then when you met Ty Lee, you’d have her do the talking while you and Mai snuck up on me.”

Azula laughed at the memory, though it made her heart ache. She’d never heard back from them. Letters to Ty Lee came back, unopened, but at least the ones to Mai didn’t return.

“Forgive me if I want to start now, then,” she teased instead.

Clearly, Zuko didn’t appreciate it. “You’re lying.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

He smiled, but it was sour. “Azula, you always lie. Fountain incident.”

“That was one time!” she protested. “And maybe I want to start talking to you for once.”

Zuko shook his head and walked away. “‘Azula always lies.’ I’m not doing this,” he muttered.

Azula fumed. The one time she tried to be nice to her stupid, failure brother, it blew up in her face. 

She scanned her surroundings. No other people in the way, and she wouldn’t hit Zuzu or the ship.

Discreetly, she called up lightning. She hadn’t mastered it yet, but she could create a small bolt. Her aim was good enough that she wouldn’t hit him, just throw it past his seeing side to scare him after he’d been rude. 

She was about to cast it out when two hands grabbed her wrists and snapped her arms straight up to the sky. The little bolt flew up a few feet before it dissipated with a loud crackle.

The hands were still around her wrists, and all Azula could think was _bruise or burn, bruise or burn, bruise or burn._

In instances like this, she’d seen both. Agni, she wished she knew what to expect.

“Azula, what the hell were you thinking?” Uncle shouted. He never shouted. Oh, this was _bad._

His hands still gripped her wrists. _Bruise or burn, bruise or burn, bruise or burn._

She wouldn’t wait long enough to find out. 

Azula yanked her hands out of his grip. “Don’t touch me,” she spat.

Briefly, she wondered where Zuko had gone off to. Maybe if he was away long enough, Uncle wouldn’t make him watch.

Agni, she _hated_ watching.

She stood, glaring at Uncle, who seemed to soften. “Why did you do that?” he asked, significantly more quiet and composed.

“I wasn’t going to hit him,” she insisted. “I was going to shoot it past his face. To scare him.”

“Why?”

“Because he didn’t want to talk to me.”

Uncle sighed. “Princess Azula, lightning is not for pranks. It is not a toy, and it should never, ever be used unless we’re training or you’re in a life or death situation.”

“I wasn’t going to hit him. I promise.”

“What if you had?”

“Not a possibility,” she insisted.

Uncle pinched the bridge of his nose and looked out to where the sun was beginning to set. “It’s getting late. We’ll speak about this tomorrow.”

Azula nodded and went to her room.

\-------

There, she scrubbed her wrists until they were red. No bruises or burns, but she hated how she could still feel his grip.

She used up all her fresh water for the week and still couldn’t get the feeling off.

Azula slept with her wrists wrapped in hair bands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos make me go brrr.


	16. Discussions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are important conversations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to the usual suspects (as usual). Sorry for getting this out so late in the day, but I really, really like this one. I hope you do too!!

As sure as Azula succeeded and Zuko failed, Uncle  _ talked. _

At first, it was strange. Sure, they spoke in the palace: barking orders at servants, stiff inquiries about firebending lessons, reprimands, and quiet, comforting whispers Azula couldn’t remember ever being privy to.

Uncle’s talking was different. He talked to Azula alone about  _ more. _ She sat through his droning about tea and pai sho only because he sat through her discussions of maps and stars and stories. It wasn’t stiff or forced or fake like back home.

Little by little, it became bearable. Quickly, it became enjoyable, though she’d never admit it. Uncle seemed to amuse himself by counting the amount of times she rolled her eyes or huffed before she semi-reluctantly told him exactly which teas they spoke about last time.

There were few things Uncle wouldn’t do: speak to her and Zuko at the same time or talk about the Anniversary.

(Not the one you’re thinking of. Azula would rather taze herself with her own lightning than watch or be a part of a conversation about the Agni Kai.

Hmm. Perhaps the sailors would find that funny. She would, if it were someone else.)

No, not that anniversary. The Anniversary.  _ The Grandfather-is-dead Anniversary. The Mother-abandoned-us Anniversary. The I’m-now-second-in-line-instead-of-fifth Anniversary. _

Azula knew it was coming. How could she not, when she has been scratching the days into her bed frame from the beginning? Also, she used calendars.

What surprised her was Uncle’s knock on her door, interrupting her playing with fire. 

(They’d run out of parchment and the next port was two days away. Azula amused herself by arcing fire through the air to light a candle. So far, she could do it from two meters away and make the shape of a heart along the way.)

“Come in,” she said, like always.

He opened the door and saw her candle alight with blue flame. He chuckled before saying, “Office.”

Azula nodded and rose to follow. Sometimes, Uncle preferred to speak there in his large, comfy chair. Better for his back, he said.

Azula doubted it. He didn’t move like someone with back pain. She saved the information for later, to question him on it at some other time. 

She entered first. Instead of one chair in front of the desk, there were two. Zuko occupied one of them.

Her eyes narrowed. Why was he here? Did Uncle invite him? Or did he just intrude?

From behind her, Uncle sighed so quietly Azula almost missed it. “Please, sit down.”

With an annoyed huff, she sat in the chair next to him. Uncle had placed her on his able side. 

“I’m as happy about this as you are,” he murmured.

“I’ll be sure to fix that,” she said back. 

Uncle sat in his chair across from them, looking between the two. “Do you know what day it is?” he asked.

“I’m not an idiot, Uncle,” Zuko and Azula replied in unison before glaring openly at each other.

She was proud to admit that she could look at the scar without reacting, now.

“I know that,” Uncle said. “But if I had to guess, I would say that neither of you have ever talked about it before. All I’m saying is you can now, if you want.”

Zuko leaned over the desk. “What is this about? You want us to talk about our feelings about today? Because only one of us has those.”

Azula snorted. “For once, you’re not wrong. And I really don’t want a therapy session.”

She pushed her chair out as Uncle asked “What do you remember about your mother?”

“Safety,” Zuko replied without hesitation, then cut himself off before he could say anything else. He picked at the sleeve of his robe.

Uncle seemed to recognize that getting more out of him was a lost cause, at least for the time being. Expectantly, he turned to Azula.

“Reprimands,” she answered smoothly, pushing her chair back in. “All I remember is Mother telling me ‘don’t.’ ‘Don’t throw bread at the turtleducks.’ ‘Don’t say that.’ ‘Don’t bend indoors.’ I’m sure she didn’t always do that, but that’s what I know about her.”

She snapped her mouth shut before she could say more. She hadn’t meant to say that much.

_ Stupid, _ she chided herself.  _ It’s easy to talk to Uncle, but you have a witness. Don’t be weak. _

Mother had never yelled. She was soft and quiet, but firm. Somehow, it hurt more than listening to Father’s scathing words. Shouting. Always shouting.

“You were pretty mean to the turtleducks,” Zuko said. “I remember feeding them with Mother. And reciting plays with her.”

Uncle and Azula shared a conspiratorial eye roll.

“I don’t really remember what she looks like,” Zuko admitted. “But I remember how it felt to hug her. And what her perfume smelled like. Cherry blossom and mint.”

With a slight pang, Azula realized she didn’t quite remember hugging Mother. Or her perfume.

“She looked a lot like me,” she told Zuko. “Without my makeup.”

Zuko looks away from Uncle and right at her. “Thanks. That helps.”

Azula nodded and turned to stare at a random point on the desk.

“What about you, Azula? Can you remember anything good?”

For a while, she struggled as she sifted through her memories. Uncle and Zuko didn’t look at her; they just continued on a different conversation and let her think.

After a while, she found something, and she didn’t even have to lie about it.

“It’s one of my first memories. I must have been around three or so. All I know is that it was before I started bending. Anyway, she scooped me into her arms and let me use her makeup like paint. I must have destroyed it all with my grubby little hands, but she let me do it. She wasn’t even mad at me,” she said.

_ It’s one of the few times she wasn’t mad at me, _ was what she didn’t say.

Her words brought Zuko and Uncle back out of their conversation. Comfortable silence settled over them.

“I remember her saying goodbye to me, before she left,” Zuko said after a while.

Azula frowned. “At least she said goodbye to you.”

“She said goodbye to you, Princess Azula,” Uncle said certainly.

Both of them look up at him.

“I don’t remember a lot of that time very clearly,” he admitted. 

Zuko and Azula both knew why. 

“But I remember Ursa leaving. I paced the halls when I couldn’t sleep. Last I saw her, she was coming out of your room,” he looked at Azula, “and she walked down the hallway leading to the front door. You might have been asleep, but she was there. She said goodbye.”

Silence settled again, but this time, it suffocated Azula.

“Well, I had Father, and Zuko had Mother, so I think we’re both alright,” she said, not really believing the words.

Those memories Zuko had of Mother were far different than any Azula had. With either Mother or Father.

_ Well, _ she thought,  _ I suppose they thought I didn’t need them. I guess they were right. Look how I turned out compared to Zuzu. _

Zuko shrugged in agreement.

Uncle’s brows furrowed in confusion and the expression Azula had commonly seen on his face during conversations like this.

_ Concern, _ her mind supplied helpfully.  _ Odd, isn’t it? _

“Having both is an option,” he said instead.

She and Zuko both restrained their laughter. Who had ever heard of such a thing?

“No. Mother thought I was a monster,” Azula explained. “And she was right. I am.”

It didn’t bother her anymore. Mother never said it, but it was implied enough times to settle into her skin, to become a part of her just like her hair or her eyes or her arms. 

“Monster” became armor instead of ammunition, all because Azula willed it so.

For a brief moment, Uncle seemed inclined to agree. Then he shook his head.

“Monsters don’t have compassion, Azula. You care, even the tiniest bit, about your brother. You are human.”

She noticed he didn’t say that she cared about him. Strange. Azula never said it out loud, but she did care about Uncle. Probably about the same amount she cared about Father. Her initial hatred and blame for her banishment had faded over the years to a quiet hum in the back of her mind, only heard when she concentrated on it.

Uncle had  _ cared _ and shown interest and taught and guided and  _ listened. _

Agni, what a sap she’d become.

And Zuzu. She had never hated him, not really. It was just easier to be cold than to be so invested in him. She had her own bending and lessons and friends to worry about.

But she realized she wasn’t protecting him because Uncle asked her to, all those years ago. She didn’t fear those consequences anymore.

Azula made that promise to herself sometime along the way. And not because Zuko would be completely, insufferably annoying about it if she fueled his hope or dashed it outright.

Because she would hurt with him, seeing him that way: disappointed over and over again or all at once.

What had Mother and Uncle called this? Sympathy? Empathy?

Disgusting.

“You don’t have to tell  _ all _ my secrets, Uncle,” she snapped.

Though it felt half-hearted, it made him smile. “I don’t think I know all your secrets.”

How right he was.

“Well,” Uncle dragged out his chair and stood. “I have a game of pai sho to play with Lieutenant Jee. Do either of you want to join?”

“Hell no.”

“I would rather die.”

Uncle laughed at their predictable answers and left them both still sitting in his office.

“I’m not continuing this with just you,” Zuko said decisively as he also moved to leave.

Azula agreed, “It was painful enough with Uncle here. If it’s just the two of us, it’ll end up with a body on the floor.”

She let Zuko leave before she did.

As she walked up to the deck to practice her katas, Uncle’s words rang through her head.

_ Monsters don’t have compassion. You care, even the tiniest bit. _

Her thoughts ran back to Father.  _ Compassion is weakness and weakness is punished. _

Did that make him a monster?

_ No, _ she decided as she crouched to stretch.  _ Father cares about me. He cares even the tiniest bit, though he might not show it. _

_ I am like Father. If I’m not a monster, neither is he. _

_ If he is a monster, then what am I? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you’ve made it this far, I have something to tell you: a little surprise is coming along with next week’s chapter. Stay tuned!


	17. Mastery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which this part of the story ends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, a few announcements:
> 
> I will NOT be posting next week. I need that time to fully outline Book 2. Sorry for the inconvenience :(
> 
> Also, update day will be moved to Sunday to better fit my schedule, sorry again.
> 
> The surprise: https://alligator-writes.tumblr.com/ I'm on tumblr now! This way, you can contact me for pretty much whatever regarding my fics and stuff. Neat, right?
> 
> Last, thank you all so much. When I started this, I didn't expect anyone to read it. At all. My girlfriend was the one who pushed me to do this, and I'm so happy she did. Now, I have over 150 people subscribed to this story, which is just insane to me. Thank you to all my readers and commenters and people who left kudos. You all mean the world to me, and I hope you stick around until the end of the story!
> 
> (One more thing. This chapter is very short. Like, short for me short. I hope that's ok!)

Lightning was still hard, but it got easier over time. Within a few months, Azula could produce a bolt ten meters long with little effort. Her anger stayed in its box in the back of her mind, seeping out only when she let it.

She let it out a lot, but never when she felt lightning crackle over her skin.

Uncle still refused to attack her with it, so Azula got creative. According to Uncle, it was impossible to direct lightning that wasn’t your own or near you. Azula took it as a challenge.

She learned how to strike the clouds and call it back to her in one breath and how to do the same with the sea.

When they ran out of ink, Azula burned her maps on to the pages with a single finger for more control. And that way, she never had to worry about them getting wet.

She sparred Zuko, who didn’t look the least bit fazed by her fire anymore, again and again, but never used lightning. She was still better, but he was catching up.

It pushed her to work harder.

\------

_ Dear Mai, _

_ I know I haven’t written for a few weeks. Nothing’s really happened in the meantime. You know all about what I’ve been doing: I mastered lightning, I made more maps, and I read more dull books and learned even duller math. I want to know more about you. How are you? How are your parents? Is your house still as boring as it ever was? I’d say you were welcome here, but I’m not sure it’s that much better.  _ ~~_ Please respond. All I want is one response. _ ~~

_ Your friend, _

_ Azula _

\------

Uncle was acting strangely.

He spent more time in his office than Azula could ever remember him doing. When she pressed her ear to the door, all she could hear was vague muttering and the wet scratching of a brush on paper.

She knew he wasn’t writing to Father. Uncle never said it out loud, but Azula knew he didn’t like him, which she thought was fair. She and Zuko never really got along either.

But there wasn’t anyone else he could be writing to. All his old friends from the war were either dead or back at the palace.

And she never, ever saw him send a letter.

It frustrated her that she couldn’t figure it out. Like always, she stored away the information to bring up at a later time.

\------

_ Dear Ty Lee, _

_ Please don’t let this letter come back unopened. I hope you’re doing well. I got really bored today and decided I wanted to try to do a headstand. I remember you trying to teach me when we were younger and how frustrated I got when I couldn’t get it. Maybe  _ _ when _ _~~if~~ I see you again, you’ll teach me. I hope you and all your sisters are alright. _

_ Your friend, _

_ Azula _

\------

They never hired a new navigator.

Uncle asked her, after the first time, if she wanted to keep doing it.

“You’re good at it,” he said simply.

_ You need the interaction, _ was what went unspoken.

To her own surprise, she agreed. Quickly.

The crew still didn’t like her much, but they tolerated her better than they tolerated Zuko. Azula figured that was because she was more competent.

Slowly, things got better. Azula recognized her own frustration in the faces of the crew. She saw their distaste for how Zuko acted.

And Azula was not Zuko.

Instead of harshly screaming orders at them, Azula commanded calmly. She let them make their excuses, then made it known she did not care. She listened to what they had to say, even if she disregarded it.

Azula was not nice, but she was civil, and it was clearly appreciated.

The crew didn’t ignore her completely or dismiss her anymore. They nodded at her in the halls, and she nodded back. She joined some of them at meals and watched them fight and joke around with each other.

She wasn’t there yet, but sometimes she thought she could be.

They asked her opinions on mundane things, like meals and weather, before they talked about card games and stories and the things they missed.

Big and Topknot’s names were Riku and Sora.

She learned all their names.

\------

_ Father, _

_ We’ve searched the entire world. We’ve investigated every lead, every trace, every rumor. The most promising information we’ve received leads us to the South Pole. If he is not there, then he is being harbored in Ba Sing Se or the Northern Water Tribe  _ _ or ~~he does not exist~~ _ _. I will write to you as soon as we receive more information. _

_ Azula _

\------

“Set a course for the South Pole!” Zuko barked out. “It’s the only place we haven’t checked.”

Azula stood at the rail overlooking the sea. She’d make them stop at the southernmost town to refuel and refresh, for the South Pole was a long way away.

And if Zuko fought her on it, well, she had more navigating experience than him.

She stared into the sea, imagining the creatures below, content in their world. For the first time, she realized she was, too. Content in her world.

Not happy. Azula didn’t know if she’d be truly happy, like her earliest memories in the palace, ever again.

But she was safe and respected and fed. And that was enough, for now.

A small strand of hair blew loose from her topknot.

Azula left it alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: I’m not a Kingdom Hearts fan lol. It’s just a big coincidence!


End file.
